


Teddy Bear Troubles and Other Such Oddities

by Kandakicksass



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, F/M, M/M, Potions, Slight dubcon (not main pairing), Unrequited Pansy/Harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-27
Updated: 2013-06-15
Packaged: 2017-11-27 04:32:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 17
Words: 61,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/658047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kandakicksass/pseuds/Kandakicksass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>During potions tutoring with a certain blonde, Harry makes a big mistake. Now he's stuck with a four year old aging a year a week, and he's not sure the boy will make it back to eighteen without turning his world upside down in all sorts of ways</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Beginning of the End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has been cross-posted from FFN, so if this looks familiar, that would be why!

Harry James Potter lived a life of constant excitement and his "eighth year" at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was of course no different. He was eighteen, a grown man to all governments whose laws he followed (mostly), and the savior of the wizarding world. Of course, he was also the best friend of the man trying to seduce the most stubborn witch in Gryffindor, the only auror-to-be currently failing potions, and the ex-arch enemy of the liveliest ex-death eater he knew to date.

So maybe that was a bit too harsh. Harry did know the full story, and didn't blame Malfoy for trying to protect his family. Honestly, he admired him for it; who else did he know who was willing to put his life in danger and betray a school's worth of people for the people he loved? Draco Malfoy, with the exception of the late Severus Snape, was probably one of the bravest people who had fought in the Second Wizarding War.

He and Malfoy—Draco, he corrected mentally as he thought to himself—were actually almost friends now. They were civil to each other at the very least, and Draco was actually the one trying to help him keep up in potions. It had never been his best subject, and the replacement for Professor Snape was far too fast-paced for him to keep up with. He seemed to forget that they hadn't done any proper potions work in the year before him and treated them as if they had encyclopedias in their brains. Even Draco only barely kept up, and that said something, because in that class at least, he'd always been top in their year. Honestly, the guy got on his last nerve, and on top of being pants at his job, he also spent most of class hitting on the girls... and Harry, loath as he was to admit it.

"Harry, do you plan on getting out of bed before first hour?"

Without looking up from his pillow, Harry grumbled, "Well, I'll be honest, I'm not exactly excited for Transfiguration... nobody wants that first thing in the morning. Not even Professor McGonagal."

Neville laughed, pulling his blankets down to his knees. "Get out of bed, you idiot. Luna is expecting us at breakfast and you've bailed on us for the past week." Since Ron had taken the ministry's offer of joining the auror program early and Hermione had begun an apprenticeship at the Daily Prophet, he spent most of his time with his favorite inter-house couple. It had been surprising when the blonde had taken his friend's offer of lunch some weeks after school started up again, but he didn't think he'd met another two people who suited each other quite as well as Luna and Neville did.

Harry groaned, but he did get out of bed and figured that counted for something. Neville was laughing at him still, probably because of his bed head, which seemed to always be worse when someone actually took the time to wake him up and be there to see it. Putting on his clothes took a little while, and three tries at tying his tie, while Neville watched, trying not to laugh. "Jeez, Harry, what were you doing, contemplating the meaning of life?"

"Could have," he grunted, a bit put out and Neville just laughed at him again. To tell the truth, he did do quite a bit of thinking in bed, though not necessarily about life, and his friend knew it.

"You're grumpy this morning," Seamus commented from his own bed, where he lay fully dressed, watching them cheerfully with a wide grin. "Don't be so cross, Harry. You've been far too stiff lately." Harry tried to glare at his friend, but ended up sighing.

"Sorry," he said sheepishly. "I guess I have been a bit testy lately."

"A bit?" Neville snorted, shaking his head. "Ever since the inheritance from Sirius came through, you've been in a right foul mood." He watched Harry wince speculatively and sighed himself, his voice softening. "Look, Harry. I feel for you. Seeing your name on all the papers, the official lord Black as well as being lord Potter... it's bound to bring back memories."

"I get what you're trying to say, Neville," he interrupted, slightly taken aback. After having two friends who often had to guess at what was wrong several times, it was different having someone as perceptive as Neville around. "And thanks for understanding. Sorry for being such a prat lately."

Neville shrugged. "We all have our days. Just hurry up, will you?" Harry snorted and nodded, picking up the pace and following him out.

A lot had changed since the end of the war- more than Harry had initially thought he could take- but the one thing that hadn't changed was Hogwarts. The building had helped the wizards rebuilding it, doing as much of the repairs as it could, cutting the restoration time in half and putting Hogwarts back in business before the next year. The old stone looked newer, magic erasing years of wear and the building still groaned at night sometimes from its own exhaustion. The staircases didn't switch around half as often as they used to because of it, and quite a few of the old decorations- paintings, suits of armor- were missing, lost in the battle. Most chose not to complain or even acknowledge the slight differences because they were all just glad Hogwarts had been left standing. Harry ran his hand against the stone as they descended the stairs to the Great Hall, almost as a caress, and the stone warmed against his palm affectionately.

The Great Hall was a bright, happy place as always, house tables orderly and filled with food, as always. Luna waited for them at Gryffindor table, engrossed in a magazine, Ginny sitting next to her going through the sixth year Transfiguration course book. Harry considered himself an "eighth year" student, but the truth of the matter was that everyone had been held back a year. The first year class was twice as large as normal (which said very little because the classes were generally tiny anyway), and everyone was re-doing the year they'd been in during the final year of the war. The teaching the year before, Harry had heard, was scanty—all theory, no practice, and often enough, classes would be cancelled for Death Eater business.

"Hello, Harry," Luna greeted him calmly, her smile bright, her eyes still focused on an edition of the Quibbler, looking away only to cut a bite of her pancakes. He took his seat across from her and Ginny looked up, flashing him a bright smile. After the war, they had thought about getting back together, but Harry was a different man than he had been before. He hadn't thought about anyone in a romantic sense since his sixth year, and even before that he'd had only a scant interest. There was just too much going on; he couldn't have someone on the side to worry about as well.

Ginny was doing well, though—she and Dean had reconciled and were in the process of trying to make a relationship work. Harry was happy for them, he really was. He enjoyed being on his own now, so there wasn't a fuss, and he was glad that Ginny was relatively happy. She was a good woman, and a good friend, and he felt no need to kick up a fuss.

"He's staring at you again," Luna remarked as Neville took his own seat on her left, prompting her to look away from the magazine for the two seconds it took to give him a kiss. Harry rolled his eyes, not even bothering to look at the Slytherin table. Because of his recent friendship with the blonde, Luna was convinced Malfoy was  _always_  starting at him. Neville had even told him a few times he'd caught him watching him as he passed, but Harry hadn't seen it once.

"Of course he is," Harry agreed calmly. Honestly, he'd expected his friends to take their friendship a little bit better, rather than assume there was something going on behind the scenes.

"Um, Harry," Ginny said, her eyes widening. He looked up at her, confusion painting his expression. She looked a bit startled, which was unusual—normally, she took Luna's ramblings in stride. "Harry, she's not joking."

"She never is," he responded with another roll of his eyes. "She's always sure of it, isn't she?"

"No," Ginny said slowly, and Neville was nodding with Luna, who had a smug little smirk tracing her mouth. "No, Harry, I mean she's being serious. Malfoy is staring at you—smiling, actually. He's—Harry, turn around." Harry sighed.

"Seriously, you guys—"

"Harry, don't be such an idiot. I've been over there trying to get one of your friends to make you turn around for the past five minutes, and you're over here, telling them I'm not. Rude."

Harry blinked, looking back at the blonde with his laughing mouth and bright grey eyes, so unusual but so welcome on his face. "Oh. Hello, Draco," he greeted him, feeling a bit stupid for obvious reasons. Draco just rolled his eyes, clearly agreeing with his errant thought, his expression friendlier than Harry could ever remember it being before the war. He couldn't think of a single time when it had ever been that open before. "Do you need something?"

"I was going to ask you to meet me so we could talk about our study session tonight without kicking up a fuss—" He gestured around at the many students whispering, watching them warily. "- but you were being difficult." It hadn't been so long ago that they would have been fighting ere they met, and their peers were still a tad cautious whenever they spoke in public, however amiable they seemed. Draco was friendly enough on his own, however—without Crabbe and Goyle at his sides (both of whom had not returned to the school and were now somewhere abroad, dealing with the falling out from the war on their own time), he was far more approachable than he had been beforehand. There were few "eighth year" Slytherins that had returned—Draco, Blaise Zabini, and Pansy Parkinson being among them, but those who had were far kinder than they'd been before the war.

"Well, sorry for being a dunderhead. What did you want to discuss?" Harry asked, grinning for the first time. Draco rolled his eyes at him, smacking him lightly up the side of the head.

"Forgiven," he said primly, settling his offensive hand back into the pocket of his robes. "I was wondering if we could meet for dinner in the potions lab, instead of during free hour. Something came up, and Professor Reich is busy, but he says he won't mind too much if we drop in and have dinner in his room, and study there. Get a little potions work in outside of all the bookwork."

"I didn't have any other plans," he agreed, nodding. "Sure. Just meet there during dinner?" He was a little antsy about intruding on more of Professor Snape's free time (really, for a painting, he was so easily irritated), but he had no other reason to refuse and Draco knew it.

He nodded in agreement. "I'd say about eight?"

"Sounds good to me," Harry said, shrugging. "That all?" He nodded again and turned to go. "I'll see you later then, Draco."

"Later, wonder boy," the blonde replied, a small smile twitching his lips upward. Harry gaped after him, trying to appear offended when all he could feel was vague amusement. Draco hadn't been rid of his snark when they'd become tentative friends and honestly, Harry was glad for it. It made him so much more interesting to talk to, and he knew Draco would never hesitate to tell him what he really thought. A remarkably honest fellow, Harry thought idly.

"You two are utterly ridiculous," Luna commented happily with a grin. "All this dancing around the subject, and with such obvious chemistry!" Harry ignored her, knowing that his cheeks were just the slightest bit pink. "I'm glad he's here, though," she continued. "You've been so  _bleh_  lately—you only liven up when he's around!"

Harry grabbed a bagel, giving Luna the barest of smiles. "I haven't the foggiest idea what you're talking about," he said calmly, but his grin widened when Neville laughed. "Look, you guys. I know it's kind of weird, having Malfoy around—"

"Didn't he ask you to call him  _Draco_?" Ginny teased and Harry gave her the look. "Luna's got a point, you know. I think being friends with him is good for you. It gets your mind off of how you're starting your life over again—because we all know that in a normal world, you and him would  _never_ be friends. Since this is obviously not a normal world now, being friends with him should help you get your bearings."

"Perhaps Ginny is right," Luna said sweetly, nestling into Neville's side, who had thrown an arm over her shoulders. "It makes sense. If Malfoy is willing to help you ground you, then why not let him? You've been all up in the clouds, Harry."

"I have not," he argued. "Just because I've been a little out of it doesn't mean I've been in the clouds."

"So maybe you're not in the clouds," Neville conceded. "But Luna's right— you haven't been yourself lately. Instead of enjoying that the war's over, you're wallowing in how different things are." Neville raised an eyebrow when he just looked at him and reached over the table to pat him on the shoulder. "Think about it."

"I always do, since you give me this talk about every other day."

Neville and Ginny laughed loudly, attracting the attention of several Ravenclaws and about half the Hufflepuff table—of course, the Slytherins weren't interested in the least, though he noticed as he glanced over his shoulder that Draco was raising an eyebrow at him. Luna just smirked smugly at him over her copy of the Quibbler, which had been on the same page for the past ten minutes. He had a feeling Luna was using it for effect. She always looked more mystical when she was talking to you while focusing on something else.

"Well, you're not listening to me!" Neville chuckled as students and teachers finished up their breakfast to go to their first classes. Professor McGonagal gave Harry a look when he didn't immediately stand and he sighed. "Go on," Neville sighed. "McGonagal will flay you alive if you're late."

"I'll talk to you later," he said with a half-grin. "I've got torture to attend to." His bad joke made his friends laugh and really, Harry knew they were right. He was a little unsure about letting go of the past, no matter how horrible it was at times. He would get there. He just needed a push, and he wasn't quite sure what it was yet.

* * *

The figurative clock was ticking, and Harry anxiously awaited the moment when Professor Flitwick released them for dinner. He'd been on edge all day, eager to get out of class and into an environment where he could get into a fistfight with Draco Malfoy and then make a potion with him that would, admittedly, have them bonding and laughing like friends again.

Okay, the fistfight had happened once, and there hadn't been laughing until the next session that had, admittedly, almost not happened, but the point remained. Bickering with Draco was probably the most releasing part of the day. He couldn't be openly nasty to anyone else, not that he was as much nowadays.

"Come on, Harry," Draco said with a roll of the eyes as he came up to Harry's desk. "You've been fidgeting since the beginning of class." It wasn't the first time that he'd done it, but it was the first time that he'd picked up Harry's book and snagged his bag from beside his desk. He tossed it over his shoulder and raised an eyebrow down at the brunette. "Maybe we can duel a bit before Professor Snape yells at us to get on with it."

Neville patted him on his shoulder from his left and shooed, telling him to go on without words. Harry rolled his eyes and stole his bag back from Draco, leaving him the book, which he was hit in the chest with as they left the room. Laughter followed them out, some of it Harry's, some of it their classmate's, and Draco just snorted at him in response. "Have I ever mentioned how much of an idiot you are?" Draco teased and he grinned, nudging him with his shoulder.

"You might've," he answered playfully, tweaking Draco's nose with a wide smile. He was received with a not-so-friendly punch in the shoulder and pink cheeks as they made their way down. Their walk was quiet and pleasant, filled with the barest amount of conversation. They passed by several students in the lower years- some of whom avoided them, some who went up and asked for high-fives that never failed to make Draco laugh.

"I'm not sure when we became the top dogs at this school," Draco snorted. "But I think I like it!"

They both laughed, but as they rounded a corner and saw their destination just a few feet away, the laughter quieted. He looked over at Draco, whose expression was becoming very blank in his effort to hide his pain. "I miss him, too, you know," he said to the blonde as they stood outside Professor Snape's potions lab, as they always did. Just because some nitwit had invaded the room of a master didn't mean they considered it his room, because it wasn't. Draco took a deep breath and gave him a weak smile in return. Years would pass and students would no longer remember the brave man who had fought so hard or them, but Harry and Draco always would and Harry knew that Draco took comfort in that fact.

"I know," he said softly and pushed the door open. "Hello, Severus!"

Just above the new professor's desk- a replacement for Severus's, which was revered in it's own room in Malfoy Manor- Severus Snape stared down at them with raised eyebrows, a small smile on his lips despite how many times he tried to cover it with a scowl. "Back again? During dinner?" He sighed. "Hello, Draco, Harry." The first time Snape had used his first name, despite being only a portrait, Harry had been stunned into silence. Now, he only grinned and waved.

"Hello, professor," he greeted Draco's painted godfather and set his things down on his desk.

"I do hope the only two students I can tolerate at this school don't plan on blowing up my lab." Harry wasn't quite sure when he'd become tolerable, but he wouldn't protest.

"I'm sure you realize that I haven't exploded a cauldron to date, and that Harry hasn't since he began lessons with me... and you." He added the last bit grudgingly, and Harry knew why. Snape didn't interfere that often, but when he did it was with crucial advice that Draco would often resent simply for the fact that the professor was helping more than the blonde was. Maybe it was a pride thing, maybe it was because he wanted to be able to say that it was all because of him that Harry passed potions that year, or maybe it was just because he wanted time to develop a friendship with Harry without Snape making fun of him (which happened often), but Draco always got sulky when Snape helped out.

Snape sat primly at his painted desk, giving them only a brusque wave toward Harry's cauldron, stacked with the others on the side of the room. Harry rolled his eyes when Draco huffed, pulling out his cauldron and raising an eyebrow at Draco, who was meant to be getting the ingredients for the potion they were going to work on. "Do you wanna duel for a bit after all?" he asked with a raised eyebrow and Draco sighed. He had been under the impression the duel had been a joke, but maybe it would do his blonde tutor some good...

"No, sorry, that's okay," he grunted, his cheeks darkening a shade or two. "Look, let's get started, okay?" Harry raised his eyebrows at him but agreed.

The art of potion making was a very exact science- at least, that was what professor Snape kept harping on about, but Harry enjoyed it all the same. Granted, he wasn't good at it, but he still enjoyed the process. He and Draco laughed over their sleeping potion- a second year potion, but they were starting easy.

Harry had to say he appreciated it; he'd been worried that Draco would try to start with what they were currently working on in class, and he'd been lost since fifth year. Instead, the blonde had surprised him with an easy grin and a first year potions book, hoping he wouldn't get mad at him for starting him with easy potions. They did a lot of technique work for the first couple weeks, meeting whenever possible, and they'd been at it for a month and a half now. Snape watched them calmly, a knowing twinkle in his eyes that made Harry think of Dumbledore. He wasn't sure why- perhaps he was just pleased to see them getting along. Either way, Harry didn't complain.

"Harry," he sighed. "Not the mandrake root, not yet. We're still working on the main ingredients. We're not curing petrified muggleborns here." Harry blushed and set it down.

"Sorry," he muttered and Draco smiled thinly.

"You're getting better, you know. I think it was a lack of technique... I mean, you were fine in sixth year."

"Well, I had  _his_  book from school to help me out," he snorted, gesturing toward their professor, who made a small sound of indignation.

"I always knew it, Potter," he said snidely and Harry just grinned, drawing a soft chuckle from him. "I suppose it doesn't matter. If you still have it, I would suggest keeping it for these lessons. So long as you don't test-drive any spells without asking what they are..." The brunette winced and Draco looked away, his hand coming up to rub his chest.

"I'm sorry about that," he told the blonde, who just rolled his eyes.

"So you've said, Harry. If I was still angry, I'd not be here." He paused. "Besides, I had tried to crucio you. I deserved worse. I was just frustrated, and angry at myself on top of dealing with something I'd been trying to deal with for a year... I should be the one apologizing. It being you that found me was just too much, and I panicked." His eyes were sad, and full of a sort of strange longing that Harry didn't quite understand. "I've always hated the fact that we were never friends. I understand it was my fault, insulting your first friend... but I still wish we hadn't been so bitter towards each other all these years." Harry nudged him playfully, his cheeks feeling warm. He was in complete agreement and was sort of glad he'd told Draco a little bit about his childhood, and why he'd refused his friendship. It honestly made him feel much better about their current situation, knowing that Draco didn't hold a grudge against him for refusing the first time, and that he really regretted how cruel he had been.

"You tried to use the Cruciatus on him?" Snape repeated incredulously, drawing them out of their little bubble. "If I'd known that- Potter, you blasted little idiot, why didn't you tell me? I went far too hard on you." It relieved him to know that everyone there understood he'd only used the spell out of panic, instead of a desire to hurt him. Granted, Snape was probably still angry at him for using a spell when he didn't know what it did, but he would take what he could get.

"You were too busy pretending to be a dementor for me to even think about telling you!" he retorted and Draco laughed, hiding behind his hand as he continued to snicker after a sharp glare from his godfather. "Besides, Draco had been upset anyway. I'd freaked him out, and he'd already been close to snapping. I don't condone the use of the Cruciatus, but I've used it before and I understand." Snape's jaw dropped. "Not well, but I've used it. I can understand what it's like to be pushed to your limits, and I didn't want Draco to get into serious trouble for it. Draco looked speechless and Harry chuckled at his expression, reaching out for a new ingredient that looked just like the seeds they were supposed to add and dropped it in.

"Harry, no!" Draco cried, reaching forward to try and snag it before it fell, but he only managed to tip the cauldron, and in panic, Harry was shoved out of the way by the blonde's elbow. The cauldron tipped and Draco went down, covered in his botched potion.

Harry, having hit his head on the edge of another desk, was out of it for a few moments. It was only Snape's screeching that brought him back, a minute or so later.

"Harry! Merlin's sake, Mr. Potter! Of all the ridiculous things that's been the result of a ruined potion! Nothing mundane for the Potters, eh? Oh, lord. For the love of Merlin, tend to him, will you? His crying is going to drive me  _insane._ "

Harry sat up, feeling a little dazed and more than a little freaked out, only to be face to face with a whimpering child.

"Hawy," he said in a high little voice, tears welling in his huge grey eyes. "Hawy, I wan' my mummy!" A white-blonde head was buried in his chest and skinny little arms were wrapped around his neck as a four-year old boy in robes way too big for him made himself comfortable in his lap. As he tentatively wrapped his arms around the boy in return, who clung to him even tighter, his thought processes shut down, save for one thought.

_What have I done?_


	2. Right Here In My arms

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The unrequited Pansy/Harry begins in this chapter! Just a warning.

Harry could not believe what was happening.

He sat in one of the desks staring at Professor McGonagal in shock, Draco curled in his lap. The boy, all slender limbs and pale skin, was nestled against his chest, buried underneath Harry's warm outer robes. "I... have to take care of Malfoy?" Even half asleep, Draco's fist tightened in his shirt at the sound of his name, sucking his other thumb into his mouth with a yawn.

Professor McGonagal looked downright pissed and he didn't really blame her - he just hadn't expected this. "Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy are both away on ministry business, and have decided that with the situation being what it is, you're the best candidate for Mr. Malfoy's guardianship." She paused, then added, "The situation being your fault, anyway." Harry's cheeks burned with shame, but Draco didn't seem to notice he was being chided.

"Professor," he managed. "I don't know the first thing about taking care of a child, really-"

"It seems that you have no choice, however," Snape said in a firm voice. He was a bit sour about having to run all the way to the headmistress's room, painting to painting, to avoid Draco's condition getting out prematurely. "This accident was because of  _you_ , Mr. Potter, and besides myself, you are the only person at this school that he trusts and recognizes. I am obviously unfit to take care of him, but you are not. It may be because you are the boy who lived, or because you saved him from a life in Azkaban, but he is most comfortable with you and does not seem to remember your squabbling in the past."

"He knows who I am, but very little about our relationship, it seems," he admitted grudgingly. "But I don't have the supplies, or the knowledge, or the quarters, to take care of him! I'd hurt him somehow or do something stupid, or-"

"Do you really think I'd leave you with him completely unprepared?" McGonagal snorted. "No, we will have a house elf assigned to helping you with the boy." A thought occurred to her that made her lips turn upward in a decidedly sadistic manner and Harry gulped. "I do believe we have one who already has experience taking care of this particular child who will work nicely." Snape was having trouble holding back his laughter at Harry's horrified expression.

"Oh, no!" he argued immediately. "I could not handle that much Dobby, no way!"

There was a loud  _crack._ "Can I be of help, Mr. Harry Potter, sir?" Harry groaned as Draco perked up, clapping his hands.

"It's my elf!" he chirped, reaching out for Dobby with one small hand. The house elf blinked once in surprise before he laughed in his high, squeaky voice.

"It's the little Malfoy, little again!"

Harry handed the child with his grabby hands to the elf, who looked more than delighted.

"As to your room," McGonagal continued with that little smirk still on her face. "Severus will make sure that private chambers on the fourth floor are prepared for you and Mr. Malfoy. They will be yours to do with what you will, but do refrain from taking advantage of the privilege." She nodded at the painted potions master, who looked affronted.

"I think the snake portrait," he said with a huff. "Will be most appropriate. You can ask it about the password yourself." Harry sighed. Of all the gifts to be left with after the loss of the horcrux inside of him, it had to be parseltongue. Once a speaker, a serpent out by the lake had told him shortly after the battle of Hogwarts, always a speaker. He still wasn't quite sure how he felt about that.

He felt a hand on his knee and looked down at the rosy-cheeked four year old gazing up at him with impossibly huge grey eyes. "Hawy?" He raised his arms, the universal sign that he wanted picked up, and he pulled the child back onto his lap as the headmistress explained Dobby's duties to him. "'m sleepy, Hawy," Draco yawned.

"Dobby could take him to your new rooms, Mr. Potter," Dobby squeaked, turning away from the headmistress, who looked far too pleased with herself.

He blinked, watching the child in his arms get comfortable. "They're ready?" He hadn't noticed that Snape had returned, looking downright medieval, likely because of the labor.

"As they'll ever be, Mr. Potter," he responded with a dirty look sent toward McGonagal for the grunt work. Personally, Harry was just glad Snape wasn't angry with him. "The house elf should know the way."

Dobby nodded enthusiastically. "The castle told me, Harry Potter, sir! Should Dobby take him to bed?" He reached out for the nearly sleeping boy, but Harry pulled away and shook his head, rearranging the child in his arms.

"I'm heading that way anyway," he said softly, staring down into that cherubic face. "I'll take him. That'll be all then?" He looked back at Snape, who was pointedly ignoring them, and McGonagal, who looked a bit surprised.

"I... suppose, yes. Just call Dobby when you leave for your classes, and he'll watch the boy." Harry nodded, standing and pushing his chair back. He headed toward the door without sparing the two adults another glance, and left with Dobby scrambling to catch up.

Harry was thankful that Dobby took the short way to the fourth floor, because he was dead on his feet by the time they made it to his personal rooms and Draco was dozing lightly. The large, multi-colored snake blinked at them lazily from its portrait, scrutinizing them with amber eyes. With a nod from Harry, Dobby disapparated with a snap and he turned his attention to the reptile.

" _May I have the password?"_  he hissed questioningly and the snake blinked again, looking surprised.

" _I assume, speaker, you are the Potter boy the black-haired human spoke of_." His tone was matter-of-fact and his tail swung back and forth in interest.

" _I am_ ," he answered hesitantly and the snake nodded its large head.

" _Then you may. I am Nigen, and the password is simple. 'Open'_." His eyes gleamed.

" _In parseltongue."_

- _Indeed. Not a problem for you, speaker_." His tail swished again.

" _Would you mind making a separate password for this one? He's only a boy, and he doesn't speak. If something happens, I would like for him to be able to get in._ " The snake seemed to smirk at him.

" _You are a clever one_ ," he allowed. " _Fine. For the boy, basilisk_." His eyes flickered to the lightly sleeping not. " _Perhaps, 'young basilisk'_." Harry had the feeling that they were being teased.

" _Basilisk shall do_."

The snake nodded again and the portrait swung open to reveal a nice enough room, decorated in grey and blue. There was a large four poster bed, close to the ground, and next to it, Harry's trunk and Hedwig's cage. On the other side of the bed, there was a much smaller four poster, a miniature of his, filled with pillows and quite a few stuffed animals. There were two dressers, similarly sized, and an open door that led to a sizable bath.

He looked down at Draco again, walking over and setting him in the middle of his appropriately sized bed with a half-smile. He never would have guessed it, but Draco was actually a pretty cute kid - damn near adorable, really, with his white blonde hair and pink cheeks and slim body. He looked so small, so delicate. Harry brushed a strand of blonde from the boy's eyes and got ready for bed himself.

Near midnight, a small, sleepy body climbed into his bed. He didn't say a word. He just adjusted himself and wrapped his arms around the child. They both slept well after that.

* * *

"Draco, get back here!" Harry growled, his fists clenched dangerously. The little brat had stolen his wand - again - and was proceeding to run around their chambers with it. Harry had just been enjoying his first weekend out of Gryffindor Tower and he would not spend it running around after a boy fourteen years younger than him. "Draco!"

His voice startled him and this resulted in the shattering of the lamp on the table next to his bed. Draco stopped running immediately, his body quivering in fear.

"Sowy, Hawy," he mumbled and Harry sighed, walking over and plucking his wand from the boy's grasp. He pocketed it and scooped the boy up, who had his eyes shut for fear of the reprimand he knew was coming. "I didn't mean to." His lower lip wobbled as Harry balanced him on his knee, sitting down at the small dinner table.

"It's fine, Drake, see?" He cast a  _reparo_  in the general direction of the lamp. "But now you see why I told you to leave my wand alone, don't you?" He nodded, looking down at his small hands. "Are you allowed to play with your mommy or daddy's wands?"

"No, Hawy," he said, his voice thick with typical childlike tears. "Mummy an' Daddy don't let me play with wands."

"And you won't do it again?"

Draco nodded.

"Good, then," he sighed. "Go play, okay? I've just a little bit more of this essay left and then I can play with you, all right?"

Draco made a little sound akin to a sigh and slid down his toned legs. "'M sorry, Hawy," he said softly and Harry couldn't help a smile, ruffling his hair before he went off to play with his cars.

As he worked, he thought. Despite being in an unfamiliar building without his parents, remembering nothing from post-age four, he thought that the boy was doing incredibly well. He was normally soft-spoken and didn't cause too much trouble, though when he did it normally ended in disaster. He was a cute kid, Harry had to admit.

His friends had also taken it much better than Harry had initially thought. Luna and Ginny were more than taken with him, and Neville was rather fond of him as well. While Harry loved Ron and Hermione, he was sure that had they been there, they would have certainly freaked out about the whole thing, whether it was Harry's fault or not, and he didn't need to deal with that. In the past five days, he'd become attached to the child and though he would like to say otherwise, as horribly selfish as it was, he was looking forward to the next several months of taking care of him. He'd never been treated like he was important for a reason other than that he was the boy who lived, and he rather liked having someone who looked up at him in awe without wondering how much fame their friendship would bring.

As he was finishing up the last line of his essay, which admittedly wasn't his best due to lack of concentration, he felt a small hand on his knee and setting down his quill, he swung the boy up onto his lap. "Are you done now, Hawy?" Dobby had been trying to help with his speech, but the letter 'r' just wouldn't come and Harry didn't push it. Honestly, he thought it was kind of cute, not that he'd admit that to anyone.

"I am," he replied, standing with Draco in his arms. "And I promised I would play with you. But first, do you want some dinner? We can get some exercise and walk down to the kitchens." Draco's eyes lit up and Harry laughed at his enthusiasm. The entire school had been made aware of Draco's situation after a rather embarrassing incident that involved lunch and Dobby being unable to quiet the wailing blonde. He'd been so red when Dobby had handed Draco to him in front of almost the entire student body, begging him to calm the boy down - which probably had something to do with the fact that they all assumed Draco was his kid. Now though, they just thought he was the perfect man for taking care of the blonde in his "time of need" or something stupid to that effect.

As they made their way to the kitchens, they passed several students, the majority of whom girls, who would give him flirty greetings and high five his little companion. It was widely known by that point that Harry tended not to date, but it didn't stop them from trying. There was a poll going over his sexuality - two, actually, that he knew of - and he did his best not to give anyone any hints, partially because he wasn't quite sure himself. He'd experimented, just a bit, before his return to Hogwarts, but he'd come to no definite conclusion.

"Pansy!"

Draco bolted forward toward his friend, who immediately dropped her back and kneeled with her arms open. Pansy had visited several times over the past few days, determined to establish their friendship early on. He didn't remember her as an adult, but he did remember her as a child and was fascinated by this older version. Harry was becoming rather fond of Pansy as well, who wasn't afraid to talk to him like he was a normal person, and she was funny. Witty and definitely snarky, but funny.

"Hello, Potter," she greeted him calmly, standing with Draco in her arms and walking over to Harry. "Dinner time?" He nodded, smiling and taking the blonde.

"I could tell he was getting a bit restless," he answered and Draco wiggled in his arms with a giggle. He laughed and rolled his eyes at the boy, grinning. "So we were just going down to the kitchens." Pansy grinned at Draco, who was reaching out to play with her scarf. "Come with?"

She shook her head, but her dark eyes told him she appreciated the sentiment. "No, thanks, Potter. I've got some work to do in the library before lights out, but I'll stop by tomorrow." She smiled faintly and laid a hand on his arm. "Thanks for taking care of him, Potter. See you later."

They resumed their walk to the kitchens, but Draco was strangely quiet. Normally, getting carried would make him cheerful, and a chatterbox, but Draco just buried his face in Harry's shoulder and stayed silent.

"You okay, Drake?" he asked softly, bouncing him gently. Draco nodded.

"Don't want to share." His voice was so soft Harry barely noticed he'd said 'share' correctly, but Dobby would be more than pleased. "I like Pansy, but..." He quieted even more. "My Hawy." Harry barely refrained from going  _aweh_  like a teenage girl.

"Draco," he murmured. "Do you not want Pansy and I to be friends?"

Draco shook his head. "No, I just want you to be my fwiend."

Harry tried not to chuckle out loud. "Draco. I am your friend, aren't I? And you're mine." The boy pulled back to look up at Harry with those wide eyes that made him do whatever he asked him to. They were outside the kitchens now, but stood there without going in. "My best friend," he added softly, reaching up to tap the boy on the nose. "My one-and-only very special friend."

Draco's lips twitched for a moment before he gave in and smiled. "Okay, Hawy. Food?" Harry laughed and nodded, reaching out to tickle the pear.

* * *

Harry watched Pansy play with her best friend a couple days later, charming a couple Quidditch player figurines to fly around in circles over a toy pitch. Harry's favorite, the one he always took when playing with the boy, was the miniature Viktor Krum. Viktor and Harry had fooled around once - part of much experimentation - over the summer before school started again and had remained friends afterwards, even if their romantic relationship had lasted one very, very drunk night, mutual masturbation, and a glass of firewhiskey each the next morning, but it had created a good friendship, so he wouldn't complain.

Draco looked so happy, he mused as the boy tripped over Flagly Quinn, who looked affronted, right into Pansy's arms with loud giggles. The figurine sneered at him and immediately rushed at another player with the obvious intention of getting out his anger.

"You're good with him," he commented quietly when Draco went back to watching his toys fly, racing around their pitch. Pansy looked up at him, her jaw slack for a moment before her cheeks went pink and she looked back down at her friend.

"I have a little sister and a little brother," she said by way of explanation. "My entire world, besides this one." She mused Draco's head, which caused him to giggle and bat her hand away. Her eyes found Harry's again and she smiled. "You're quite fond of him yourself, Potter."

He chuckled. "Call me Harry," he said with a shrug, a smile still touching his lips. "And yeah, I guess so. It's nice having him around."

"You were becoming friends before this," she observed, tilting her head to the side with a calculating expression, still smiling. "Draco talked about you quite a bit, you know. He was beyond ecstatic that you were willingly hanging out with him." She paused. "Your rejection back in first year hit him hard. I know that you know that," she added when he opened his mouth. "It's just… he was so excited." Her smile softened into something tender and maybe just a bit sad. She reached out, toying with a strand of Draco's hair, before resting her hand on his back and rubbing gently.

"Draco and I have both hurt each other," Harry said carefully. "But we've both apologized, too. And he's great—a wonderful person to have around. When he's not trying to be nasty, he's actually quite friendly."

Pansy laughed and nodded, shifting so that most of her weight was on one arm. "That's true," she allowed, biting back a grin. "Draco's always been a bit… different. I've known him since I was little, you know." She glanced back at him. "He wasn't like this, though, not in public with his parents."

Harry blinked in surprise before his expression hardened and Pansy quickly jumped in again. "Not that they treated him badly or anything—Lucius and Cissy loveDraco  _so_  much, they really do. It's pureblood stuff, appearances and such. Draco was more himself in private. It just surprises me that he's not pretending to be a miniature adult with you. I mean, he must really trust you." She blushed and bit her lip. "I should shut up now."

Harry bit his own lip and grinned in return. "No, I get it. But… Cissy?"

Pansy's face went red from her hairline to her neck. "I used to call Narcissa that when I was younger," she muttered before coughing and giggling to herself. "I used to call Lucius 'Lucy', but he'd have a heart attack if I called him that now."

"Yeah," Harry agreed, biting back another chuckle. "He probably would." They both watched Draco for a little while, knowing that it was late and that they should all three get to bed, but Harry didn't necessarily want to make the boy stop when he was having so much fun, now cheering on the Viktor figurine.

Pansy glanced from him to Draco and grinned. ' _Five more minutes_?' she mouthed and he nodded, watching the blonde as his toys flew around and around.


	3. Scared to Death

"He's just… cute."

Pansy, a rather permanent fixture in his little flat, rolled her eyes at him. "Because five year old Draco is any cuter than four year old Draco." Her teasing was only that and he knew it, so he stuck his tongue out at her and left it at that. She sat with him at the table he used for dining and homework, playing with one of the racing figures Draco was so fond of. In the past week she'd taken to harassing them. Once she'd poked Thor Spritely in the ass and gotten him to blush, she was on a mission to see just how far she could push the toys.

"It's a little weird," he murmured, leaning back in his chair. "Yesterday, he was little and couldn't say the letter r."

"You knew he would age," Pansy pointed out, holding up a Chudley Cannon player by the scruff of the neck.

"Knowing he wouldn't didn't prepare me for it," he sighed. "And I definitely didn't expect him to suddenly age a year overnight."

Draco was coloring on a bit of spare parchment, surrounded on his bed by crayons. His hair fell to his chin and when he'd woken up that morning, his nails had been ridiculously long. His limbs were just a bit longer, as well as his eyelashes, which just made his grey eyes stand out even more. Harry was glad that the house elves did laundry and had replaced his old clothes with new ones because the clothes he'd been in for the past week definitely would not fit this boy.

"Seems like he hasn't given you too much trouble," Pansy said with a smile, resting her head in her hand. "He's such a sweet little thing... and if he doesn't remember me saying that later, I would appreciate you keeping that to yourself." Harry laughed.

"He really hasn't given me much trouble. He's remarkably well behaved for a child." Harry gave the boy a smile when he looked up. "Even this morning. He was a little panicked when he woke up with new memories and a new body, but he didn't throw a fit. He told me, very calmly, what was wrong so I could explain what was happening," Harry told her absently. "He  _is_  very sweet."

Pansy laughed and he gave her a confused look. She snickered at her expression, brushing dark hair from her eyes. "I just find it a tad amusing that you're so enamored of him when you were so on the fence about it in the beginning."

"No one likes to be told that as of today they're the guardian of a four year old," he retorted and Pansy just rolled her eyes at him. "But yeah, I guess I am a bit fond of him. I'm used to having him around."

"Harry!"

He looked down at the boy, giving him a smile. It was a little strange to think that the day before he'd been  _'Hawy'_. "Yes, Draco?"

The blonde looked up at him with awed eyes, raising his arms to be picked up. The first few days they'd spent together had been a bit odd for Harry, but now it was almost normally to reach down and swing the boy up onto his lap. His hands were immediately around Harry's neck, playing with his hair. "You said that we could go visit Uncle Severus today to show him how big I am," he chirped brightly, beaming at the eighteen year old. Harry sighed dramatically, pouting down at him. He knew Pansy was giggling at him behind her hand, just like Ginny did when she visited and saw him playing with the boy, but he couldn't bring himself to care.

"Do I  _have_ to?" Draco laughed loudly, smacking his cheek lightly enough Harry knew he meant it to be playful.

"Yeah, Harry!" he said in a 'duh' sort of voice. "You  _promised_!"

"I don't think I  _promised_ ," he teased. "But for what it's worth, I did say I would. So yes, we can go. Do you want to go now, or finish your game?" He'd been playing with the Quidditch players again, but this game seemed far more violent than the last, and the boy had been yelling at the players to 'quit their whining and be men', whatever that meant. He assumed it was something he remembered from going to games with his father as a child and didn't protest, though he did have to tell him quite sternly to watch his language at one point.

"The game is finished!" he insisted, wrapping his arms tighter around Harry's neck, a clear indication that he wanted to be carried. Thankful for both his muscles and charms intended for easy lifting, he stood with the boy tucked carefully into his arms. Draco kicked his legs with a giggle, tugging on Harry's hair hard enough he had to pull the boy's fingers from his already messy nest.

"I'm pretty sure he's more affectionate with you than anyone else," Pansy told him conversationally as they started down the first staircase. "Even his mother never got that much love in public, and she doted on him."

"It's because he knows he's not going to get in trouble for it," he snorted. "It has nothing to do with some weird fondness for me." Draco rested his head against Harry's shoulder as if he knew what they were talking about, sucking his thumb into his mouth. Sighing, Harry pulled the hand away from Draco's mouth and ignored the pout.

"Turn here!" Draco instructed, flinging a stubby finger toward the hallway they were headed toward. "Uncle Severus is down there!" His voice was high and excited, making a few Slytherin girls giggle as they passed. Harry sighed, not at all shocked. Child-Draco made even the Slytherins turn into normal girls for the five seconds he was in their line of sight and he was starting to get used to it. Because of Draco, he was also number one bachelor at Hogwarts (and the rest of the wizarding world, but he wasn't going to go into that) and he was starting to get used to that, too. Apparently, taking care of a child made him drool worthy or something to that effect. He didn't quite understand  _why_ , but he understood that it did.

"Don't be bossy," Pansy chastised, but Draco just laughed charmingly and tapped Harry's cheek.

"Faster, Harry!"

The group laughed, as well as passing fifth year Ravenclaw Harry recognized as dating one of the Slytherin fourth-year girls. "Oh, Lex, she's not in the Slytherin common room. Amerie went to talk to Professor McGonagal about her Transfiguration work." Harry almost laughed when she frowned at his grin. They both knew this whole 'nice' thing was new for her and while Harry thought it was uproariously funny whenever she showed any evidence of her 'new leaf', she wasn't so amused.

"Oh, thanks, Pans," he said good-naturedly, brushing a strand of brown-black hair a shade lighter than Harry's out of his eyes. Even Pansy looked a little surprised at the familiar way he thanked her. "Oh, by the way, Harry, I think Ginny was looking for you, too. Hi, Draco!"

The boy just kind of blinked at the Ravenclaw and then waved with the kind of smile Harry always gave to the unknown fans. "Hi, weirdo!" he chirped brightly and Harry bit his lip to keep from laughing as the Ravenclaw rolled his eyes and leaned in to pinch the blonde's cheeks gently. "Harry, that guy pinched me!"

Harry rolled his eyes and pinched Draco's cheek himself as they entered the potions hallway. He nudged the door to the potions room open and they swept inside, Pansy snickering quietly behind them.

"Harry!"

 _Shit_. He'd forgotten that the knew potions professor would probably be in his classroom grading or something of that sort— _or shagging some chit,_ his mind supplied helpfully, complete with utterly disgusting images—and he wasn't excited about spending some time with him.

Harry supposed Kristopher Reich wasn't bad looking or anything—he might have been attractive, if it weren't for his obnoxious personality. He had short blonde hair the color of sand and bright blue eyes that seemed quite cold. He had a muscled frame though slender. Ginny liked to call him Professor Twink, and he could see, if he didn't appreciate, why.

"To what do I owe the pleasure, Mr. Potter? Ms. Parkinson?" He turned a not-so-warm smile on Draco. "And the young Mr. Malfoy, welcome. My, he is attached to you, isn't he?"

"Why is everyone saying that?" he muttered under his breath as he set Draco on his little feet, who automatically ran up to Reich's desk and behind it, who looked rather confused. Draco tapped the painting.

"Oh," Reich laughed. "Severus? He went away quite awhile ago for some reason."

Pansy snickered under her breath, probably due to the fact that everyone and their mothers knew that Severus could not stand the new professor if it cost him his life. Still, it appeared that even he couldn't resist the five year old because a few moments after Draco's hand tapped on the painting, Severus's nose, followed by the rest of his head, popped back into the painting, peering down at the blonde head musingly.

"Hello, Draco," he decided finally, sliding into the frame. "Harry, Parkinson."

Reich gave Severus a pout that had Harry biting his lip to keep from laughing at. Did he really think he could act all cutesy with Severus? Of all the men in the castle to try to be friendly with, it was  _not_ the way to go at it with Severus and everyone knew it. Honestly, Harry was under the impression that the idiot did it just because he  _liked_ to irritate the ex-professor.

"Look how big I am!" Draco giggled, putting his hands on his hips and grinning proudly at his godfather. Harry's smile turned nothing short of tender and Pansy gave him a softening smirk, patting him on the arm before she left to join her best friend below the painting of their favorite professor.

* * *

Harry had been watching Pansy and Draco play for an hour from a desk in the second row of the room. In one hand, he smoothed down a yet-to-be finished essay for potions (just begun, with supplies provided by his professor). It was remarkably easier to write in the classroom itself with both Snape and Reich (who still didn't know shit, as far as Harry was concerned, but was counted due to his professor status) in the room, unsurprisingly. In the other hand, he held a new quill, the feather barely ruffled. The essay was still mostly unwritten, but he didn't mind. He found the child far more entertaining, though he spent most of his day watching him, anyway.

"Enjoying your Saturday, Mr. Potter?"

With a sigh, he forced a smile to his face and glanced over at Reich, who was sliding into the seat next to him. "I am, yeah." He refused to elaborate, though if he had it would include how much worse it was suddenly seeming. It wasn't so much that he disliked the man, just that he was irritating. There was some sort of falseness when he spoke that made Harry uneasy.

Reich nodded his head regally and Harry found himself thinking that Draco pulled off the aristocratic thing better. Even as a child, he held his head high and didn't slouch, his posture good. "Ms. Parkinson and Mr. Malfoy seem to be enjoying themselves, as well. Speaking of Ms. Parkinson, she seems far easier in your presence than she used to."

Trust him to pay attention to Harry's relationships with others, he snorted mentally. "I guess she is. She's over a lot—Draco was her best friend. At first she was a bit angry about it, though. She felt that it was a bit… wrong, for him to be taken care of by me instead of her. She's got a bit of a mothering instinct."

"From what I see, you have a bit of a fathering instinct," Reich teased and Harry knew he was loosening up when he gave a genuine, albeit small, smile.

"It's not so much that. Draco isn't like a son or a brother to me or anything, it's just…" Reich's smile seemed suddenly much tighter. "He's a friend. I'm obligated to take care of him, and I'm probably the best man for the job anyways."

"He's attached to you."

Harry sighed. "I suppose that is true. I mean, if  _everyone_ is saying it." He gave a reluctant chuckle. "It just makes me a bit sad. I know Draco had a happy childhood and all—it was a damn sight better than mine; that's for sure. I guess it's just a little weird, hearing Pansy talk about how different he is with me."

"Maybe it's just because he likes you?" Reich suggested. "I always hear about you two—all the fights you've had and such. It sounds like he's always been a bit more passionate around you than anyone else."

"Well, it's true we used to fight a lot," he chuckled. "This year, we've been kind of friendlier, but not that much, you know, work in progress and all." He shrugged, grinning when the boy looked up and waved, then pointed to Severus, who was trying not to laugh at whatever his godson had said.

"I can tell," Reich responded conversationally. "I heard about how you two used to act toward each other and I was nothing short of shocked, really. I've watched you two very closely since and I really haven't been able to tell there was any hostility between you."

"That's what you get for saving someone's life," he shrugged. "But it's more than that. We… our personalities clash sometimes, but there's too much between us. We can't be enemies, not really, and with our history we can't be strangers. We decided mutually that really, our only option was to try and be friends." He shrugged. "It was working before the accident. I just hope he's not mad at me after this whole thing is over."

"Oh, I doubt he will be. He really does seem extraordinarily fond of you." Reich smiled, his teeth almost uncomfortably white. He brushed a blonde curl out of his eyes, resting his chin in his hand, propped up on the desk.

"Okay, we're not talking about this anymore," Harry laughed. "I've heard that sentence far too many times."

"Not enough, apparently—you still haven't accidentally written it on your essay," Reich teased and Harry chuckled. He had to hand it to him; that was a good one.

"I should," he chuckled. "If I write it in the middle, will you mark my grade down for it?"

"Mmm…" he hummed, obviously trying not to laugh. "I'll have to think about that one. I say do it and you'll see."

Harry couldn't help it; he cracked up at that one, causing Pansy to look up and glance between them with an unreadable expression on her face. "Okay, you know what, I'm putting it down, then! Have fun grading it!" He penned the words  _Draco Malfoy is extraordinarily fond of me_ quickly, his scrawl messy, a grin still on his face. "You know, it's really weird. You're not like a professor at all." He rolled up his essay, intending to finish it later.

"I am the youngest professor here," Reich said in response, a cheeky grin brightening his expression.

"Harry."

They both looked up at Pansy, standing there in her sensible slacks and button up, hair pulled back into a top knot on the crown of her head. Harry smiled, ignoring her flat expression. "You know, Pans, I didn't notice, but you look nice today. Sharp." Pansy rolled her eyes tightly, her cheeks just the slightest bit pink.

"Yes, well. I think we should be going—let Professor Reich get back to his grading as what not." Her tone was sickeningly sweet. "Severus is as tired as a painting can be, and I think it's nap time for Draco."

"I don't need a nap!" The boy complained, but he was overruled when Harry nodded.

"You're probably right," he conceded, giving her a small smile. "Maybe nap time for me, too. I've been so exhausted lately."

"Wonder why," Pansy snorted, but her grin was fond. "Goodbye, Professor." Harry didn't miss the way her eyes darkened and narrowed at their professor, but chose not to comment. "Goodbye, Severus!"

"Show a little respect, Ms. Parkinson!" Severus huffed, but spared a faint smile for the four year old gathering up the crayons he'd brought in his pocket, handing Harry the picture he'd drawn on a piece of parchment also provided by Reich. "Goodbye, Draco, Harry."

"Bye, Severus," he said with an amiable wave.

"Bye bye, Uncle Severus!"

On the way back, Pansy was quiet until they reached his rooms. "I'm going to go meet up with Blaise, but, before I go…" She sighed. "Look, I don't want to be  _that_ girl, but I feel like I should be the one to tell you watch Reich."

"Jealous?" he teased, but Pansy didn't even crack a smile.

"Maybe. It doesn't matter, though," She intoned, her voice quiet, like she didn't want Draco picking up on it. He was in Harry's arms again, his head on the brunette's shoulders, and his eyes were closed, but they both knew he was listening intently. "Just watch out for him. You're so oblivious you didn't notice, but that was some pretty heavy flirting he was laying on you earlier. He's creepy."

"He's nice enough," Harry defended, but Pansy just snorted.

"And you hated him three hours ago," she pointed out. "He's the type of guy that gets under your skin. Besides, you don't need a relationship right now, not with Draco here. Bloke or chit, I don't care. Just watch out for him."

"I'm regretting telling you about my minor sexuality crisis," he told her with a frown, but she just hummed under her breath and leaned up to lay a soft kiss on his cheek. He didn't notice that she stayed a little too close for too long, only that she smiled against his cheek.

"I care about you, Harry," she admitted. "In this past week and a half, I've come to think about you as something of a friend. Tentatively. I'd hate it if you got involved with a guy like Reich and got hurt. He's not interested in anything more than shagging the boy who lived, and we both know you're more than that."

Harry's throat tightened at her concern and her words. He nodded. "I'll take care of myself, Pans. Promise."

She smiled wryly and, pressing a kiss to Draco's forehead as well, left, her shoes clacking down the hallway.

* * *

"Harry, what happened to Uncle Severus?"

It was late, nearing eleven at night and Draco should have been in bed. He obviously wasn't—instead, he was clambering onto Harry's four poster and crawling over to plop down next to the boy-who-lived with a somber expression.

"What do you mean, Drake?" he asked quietly, knowing what was coming and not looking forward to it.

"Why is he a painting now? I wanna know how it happened." Draco's expression was serious and composed, but his grey eyes were troubled. He looked down at Harry, sitting on his heels, and Harry sighed.

"Lay down with me, bud." Draco promptly collapsed onto Harry's chest, looking up at him with those huge eyes. "You know he's dead, then, if you're asking me this?" He nodded hesitantly, still dry-eyed, but Harry wondered still if that would change. "Before I explain anything, I want you to know something, and remember it, okay?"

"Yes, Harry."

"Your godfather was a hero, and one of the best men I know," he told him gently. Draco's eyes got just a fraction bigger and he nodded again, laying his head on Harry's chest to listen comfortably.

Draco didn't say anything for the entire explanation, but when it was over, he knew that the boy was in tears, just like he'd predicted. His arms, at some point (probably during Harry's description of Nagini's attack, PG version for Draco), had wound around the boy and he'd sat up. Now, he rocked him slowly, hushing him.

"I-I knew he was a hero," Draco sniffed and Harry wiped a tear from his cheek. "He's a hero just like you and that's why they made a big painting of him to go on the wall in his room, right?"

"Hey," he murmured and Draco looked up. "Severus is definitely a hero. But what do you mean, just like me?"

"You're Harry Potter," Draco said with a hiccupy laugh. "You're silly." Then he leaned in and whispered, "You know, my daddy doesn't like you very much, but my mommy feels bad for you, and I'm really glad we're friends."

"I'm glad we're friends, too," he replied with a soft chuckle and Draco beamed at him.

"I always wanted to be your friend," he chirped excitedly, wiping both tears and snot from his face, prompting Harry to hand him a tissue. "Always!"

Harry felt guilt bite at him. "Always, huh?" And then six years later, he refused him. Granted, he was a prat, but he was a product of his environment, even if he hadn't known about that at the time.

"Always," Draco giggled, and planted a wet kiss on Harry's cheek. "Thanks, Harry. I'm glad Uncle Severus is a hero. Can I sleep with you, tonight?" Too surprised to respond with anything other than a stunned nod of the head, they both settled in.

* * *

"You're my favorite, Harry."

The words were so matter of fact that Harry paused and so did Pansy, who was sprawled across his bed with a copy of Witch Weekly. Pansy's expression was kind of weird—pained, almost, but Draco was calm as could be, his expression serene, coloring again. It was a new freehand and it was likely featuring himself and Harry.

Draco looked up when Harry didn't respond. "Did'cha hear me, Harry? You're my favorite."

"You're—" It was so stupid, how his throat closed up, affection welling in his chest. This poor, innocent boy he had hurt. It wouldn't do to regret things now, to take the blame on himself for how things ended up with Draco, but he couldn't help but feel bad for letting him get so attached when, in several short weeks, he would remember hating him. "You're my favorite, too, kiddo." Draco smiled, satisfied, and looked back to his picture.

"My favorite," Draco murmured, his coloring slowing down significantly. He carefully colored in Harry's eyes the brightest green in his pack of crayons. Pansy and Harry shared a look. His was dumbstruck. Hers was concerned, but other than that, completely closed off.

He looked back to Draco, and sat there in silence.


	4. In the Arms of Rain

"Harry, I don't wanna go to bed."

Draco sat in the middle of his miniature four-poster, looking up at him with wide eyes. Harry hated to see him so scared. "Draco..." he began gently, sitting at the edge of the bed.

"What if I get big again? I don't like getting big - it's scary and feels weird and you have to cut my hair and my nails and everything!"

"Draco," he said again, this time much more firmly. "Draco, sweetheart, there's nothing to be scared of." Pansy had taken to calling him 'sweetie' or 'sweetheart', which generally calmed him down when he was upset. Harry used it now and Draco's lower lip quivered.

"Why do I get bigger? I get bigger and I remember more stuff and I don't like it, Harry," the child - an innocent memory of the man he was to become - asked softly, scooting closer, into Harry's arms. Harry's heart broke for him, so alone and frightened. Harry had never really been the cuddly type, but Draco was so small and vulnerable. How could he not draw him closer, onto his lap, and kiss the blonde head in comfort? Draco snuggled closer, his lower lip out in an unintentional pout. Tears clung to his long eyelashes.

"Draco, do you remember waking up in Professor Snape's classroom a couple weeks ago?" he asked gently. The boy nodded, rubbing at his eyes in what Harry hoped was fatigue.

"And I saw you and knew I was safe 'cause you're Harry Potter," he elaborated and Harry smiled faintly. He still wasn't quite sure how Draco had remembered who he was, even if he didn't remember knowing him personally, but he could get into that later.

"Well," Harry said slowly, his thumb stroking Draco's arm absently, trying to think of a good way to put it. "We were working on a potion together -"

"Because we're friends!" Draco interjected with an almost-smile and Harry nodded.

"Exactly, because we're friends and I'm… well, I'm pants at potions," he admitted, making the blonde laugh wetly. "And we were talking to your godfather's portrait, and I wasn't paying enough attention to what I added to it." Draco's expression slipped from amusement to concern. "I'm so sorry," Harry added softly. "You tried to grab it before it fell in, but you were too late and tipped over the cauldron just enough that the bubbles spilled. You pushed me out of the way and got covered in it."

"So I saved you?" he asked and Harry nodded hesitantly. Draco was instantly beaming, looking incredibly proud of himself. "You're like a damsel in distress and I was the knight!"

Harry had to laugh at that one, which may or may not have been Draco's intention. "I think you're normally more of the damsel, but I guess in this situation, you were my knight," he teased, tickling him lightly and he squirmed, giggling. "Are you still afraid to go to bed?"

He shook his head. "Harry, how big am I gonna get? Am I gonna be big like you?" Harry nodded.

"You're going to get big like me, yes," he answered patiently. "And there's nothing to be afraid of, is there?"

Draco shook his head again. "Nu-uh. Can I sleep with you tonight, Harry?" The brunette chuckled softly under his breath and nodded, letting Draco curl in his arms. He lifted the boy, all slender limbs and lolling head, and carried him the few feet to his own four-poster. He was glad they'd had this talk after they'd gotten ready for bed because he wasn't sure he'd be able to rouse the boy at this point. He pulled the covers back and laid the boy down, tucking him in before walking around and climbing in on the other side. He was immediately accosted and chuckled quietly again, rearranging the child comfortably in his arms.

* * *

When he woke it was to a rather heavy weight on his chest and a soft sniffling that wasn't quite snoring. He blinked into consciousness, shifting just enough so that he could angle his head to see what was laying on him.

He blinked in surprise, noting how different his charge looked. Maybe it was just him, but Draco really had changed overnight. Last time, it had been an inch or so in height and the ability to say a letter of the alphabet. Now, the change was more significant. His hair was indeed longer and his nails were obscenely long as well, but the real change was in the length of his already lengthy, slender limbs and the baby fat that seemed to disappear from everywhere but his cheeks, which were still rosy and childlike.

He had no doubt Draco would be taller now, to his hip if not higher, and he wasn't quite sure how he felt about that.

"Harry?"

Draco's voice was still rather high (it always would be, he knew that), but wasn't tinkling any longer, or slurring words in that lazy, childlike way. It was surprisingly clear for a child, but sleepy. The boy raised his head up, hair long enough to stuff brush Harry's chest, and rubbed his eyes, peering at Harry. "Did I grow again?"

"Yes," he answered, sounding more tired than he felt. "Which means I should probably cut your hair again, huh?" If there was one thing he was good at, it was cutting hair - probably from doing it himself for most of his childhood. So he wasn't a professional, but he could do the simple stuff, and Draco's hair was surprisingly easy to deal with. "Or we can tie it back like your daddy does," he suggested. It was a little weird referring to Lucius Malfoy as anyone's daddy, but he supposed it was true and Draco called him that, so he would oblige.

Draco yawned, sitting up on Harry's abdomen. "Can we try tying it with a ribbon?" Harry nodded, sitting up as well when Draco crawled off his lap. He yawned as well, grinning at the child sleepily when he came back to the side of the bed with a black ribbon, obviously from the night-table drawer, still open and filled with a surprising amount of things - more ribbons of all colors, hair bands, crayons and pencils, a comb and some hair product that Harry didn't recognize, probably gel.

"Set it on the table, kid," Harry chuckled. "We need to get dressed first, don't we?" Draco sighed, and nodded.

"I can dress myself, 'kay?" His huge grey eyes, even bigger than before, blinked at him. "I'm gonna be a big kid. I'm six now, after all." He spoke matter-of-factly, nodding wisely, and Harry had to bite his lip to keep from chuckling.

"Of course you can, Draco," he agreed with a smile. "But I approve your outfit. We have to be sure you match."

Draco sighed dramatically. " _Fine_." He scampered off toward a new room. Noticing it, Harry blinked in confusion before scanning the room and realizing that Draco's bed was missing. He leaned forward, scooting to the foot of the bed and peering inside the open room. Indeed, Draco's bed and toys were in there, as well as a closet filled with clothes.

Harry rolled his shoulders, yawning loudly. He could hear Draco rummaging around in his closet and sighed, sliding out of bed. He forced himself into a standing position.

"Harry, does pink go with orange?" Draco called and Harry had to resist the urge to laugh and tell him his gay was showing, but he reminded himself that he was only a child still.

"Draco, nothing goes with orange," he called back, unable to help his grin. "If you're dead set on pink, try black."

"All right!"

He laughed as he pulled on a button down and pair of slacks. He slung the Gryffindor tie around his neck and arranged his book bag over his shoulder. "Hurry up, Drake! We have class to get to!" Draco had never once made him late, but it wouldn't hurt to remind him that they were on a schedule.

"Your hair is messy, Harry," the boy informed him grimly and Harry jumped. He hadn't realized that he'd returned to the main room, dressed in a simple pair of pressed black shorts and a light pink button down, complete with a vest to match the shorts. He sighed. He guessed that Draco would always be a better dresser than him; it was probably in his blood.

"It always is," he agreed and Draco nodded. He walked over, grabbing the brush and the ribbon, and began doing Draco's ponytail. "Why are you so dressed up?" he asked casually as he finished tying the ribbon. He hadn't dressed himself before, and Harry hadn't expected him to come out looking like, well, a Malfoy.

"Daddy says a Malfoy must always look his best," he answered promptly, obviously proud of his heritage. "And I like dressing up," he admitted when Harry raised an eyebrow. The man-who-lived laughed, ruffling blonde hair and having to fix it again. He half expected Draco to yelp and pull away the way he always used to at eighteen when Harry even barely touched his hair, but instead he answered the way he had been since the accident, nuzzling against Harry's palm. "Are we going to class now?"

Chuckling, Harry nodded. "Yes, Draco. Come on, then." He led Draco toward the portrait, knocking on it before walking through before -

\- walking into Pansy.

"Well, don't run me over, golden boy!" she huffed, and Harry winced, noticing the redhead behind the Slytherin.

"That was incredibly graceful," Ginny snickered. "I have to admit, I'm impressed, Harry." He rolled his eyes.

"I told you not to follow me," Pansy grunted, obviously irritated by the redhead's presence. "Freakin' stalker. How do you put up with her, Harry? You dated for what, half a year?" She glared at Ginny. "Not even that, I don't think."

Harry sighed. He really didn't want to be in the middle of a Slytherin-Weasley feud, even if Ginny wasn't feuding – just smirking like she knew something Harry didn't. "Look, can we not do this?"

"Not in front of me!" Draco chimed in, undeniably adorable, huffing at Harry's two friends. They were opposites, Ginny and Pansy – light and dark, red and black – and they argued like it, too… at least when they were both actually participating in the argument. "I'm a little boy, you shouldn't be mean to each other in front of me."

Pansy actually laughed, which was more than she had been doing and surprised Harry. She didn't usually laugh in front of people she didn't like, and only very rarely legitimately smiled in public. "You're right," she agreed, and leaned down to squeeze his tiny shoulder. "I'm sorry, Draco."

He shrugged, suddenly seeming his age again. "S'okay." Harry couldn't help but laugh with Pansy.

"He's growing into his Malfoy genes," Harry snickered when Pansy burst into disbelieving guffaws. Behind them, Ginny chuckled a bit, too, but she had an odd look in her eyes watching them.

"I can tell," Pansy snorted. "Look at his hair!"

"Harry said I could keep my hair long like Daddy if I wanted and I wanted to!" Draco huffed and Harry felt oddly proud. That was his boy, telling Pansy to stuff it without saying it directly.

"Is Harry taking care of you all right?" Ginny asked out of the blue and Draco turned to her, a little surprised by her question.

"Of course," he answered uneasily, like he thought he was being asked a trick question. "Harry's my best friend." He shuffled closer to Harry, his hand fisting in Harry's robe.

"Can we just go?" Harry asked, reaching down to wrap his arms around the blonde and pick him up. Gracefully, Draco wrapped his legs around Harry's waist and held on. He was still apparently fond of being carried around and Harry found that he didn't quite mind. "We'll be late to class and what kind of example would that be?"

"Yeah!" Draco cried, shaking his still remarkably small fist. "You should be  _ashamed_  of yourselves!"

Ginny laughed. "What a cute little family unit," she snorted. "Adorable! I'll give it to you, Harry; you'd be a great dad. "

"You're dumb," Draco said bluntly and Harry was in the process of opening his mouth to chastise the six year old when he continued. "Harry's not like a daddy. He's my friend and I love him." He sounded so indignant that they couldn't help but take him seriously.

Pansy looked stricken, but Ginny just laughed again. "I'm sure Harry loves you, too, kiddo." Harry was a little shocked she wasn't upset over being called 'dumb', but he was already gaping in shock at Draco's declaration.

"Harry?" Draco said in his ear, his breath got against the side of your face. "Aren't we gonna go to class?"

He nodded, snapping out of it with a half-smile. "Of course we are, kiddo. You're right. Let's go." He didn't know why he was so shocked and he wasn't going to bring it up unless Draco did. He almost hoped Draco forgot about because he really wasn't sure how the mature Draco he knew would react if he knew about his declaration of love.

Pansy took his bag for him when it slipped off of his shoulder, not saying anything in response to his thanks. She appeared to be in a bit of a sour mood, but she didn't seem to be angry at him, so he wouldn't bother her just then about it.

* * *

Later, sitting in their rooms, Draco lay sprawled on Harry's bed. He was dressed in silver pajamas, complete with the Malfoy crest, and his shoulder-length hair was hanging loose around his face. He wasn't doing much - just laying there, humming to himself and watching Harry finish his work - but he looked relaxed, if a bit tired. Harry was just finishing up an essay for Reich, even though knew that he turned in a blank piece of parchment, he would still get full marks on it.

"Done!" he explained as he penned the last word, blowing on it to dry the ink before rolling it up and signing his name in his nearly illegible scrawl with flourish.

"Your handwriting is messy, Harry," Draco yawned. "Are you coming to bed soon? I'm sleepy."

Harry blinked over at him in surprise.

"You're not sleeping in your own bed tonight?" he asked. "Your bed is in your new room, and it's a bit bigger - don't you want to sleep there?"

Draco frowned and rearranged himself into a sitting position, automatically going defensive. "I thought – I want to sleep with you, Harry, not alone." He paused, then his eyes widened. "Do you want me to sleep there? If you don't want me, I'll go to my room…" Answering a question and following it up with a different question - such was the style of a Malfoy. Harry knew that the boy didn't mean it how it sounded, but the first response that came to mind was still defensive and reassuring in turn.

"Don't you ever ask me if I don't want you," he hissed, sliding out of his chair and onto his knees in front of the boy who had slid to sit on the edge of the bed. Draco jumped, his eyes widening in surprise and what Harry recognized as fear, but Harry grabbed his hands and held them tightly before he could move away. "Draco. You are my most important person." He'd never said anything like that before, but he supposed that it was sort of true. Hermione and Ron never talked to him anymore, not that it was their fault; they were busy, and he knew that, but it didn't stop it from hurting when he would get a reply from a letter he sent months before hand. Sometimes, he didn't ever get replies, and that stung.

Ginny, Luna, and Neville were all great friends, and so was Pansy, but the only person who knew him, really  _knew_ him anymore, was Draco. The blonde was one of the few people who saw him past the Golden Boy image and despite their history, Harry still trusted him enough to spill his heart out to him when he was upset and try to do the same for. Of course, he tried to help anyone if they came across him in tears, but he always felt sort of restless and helpless when Draco was upset.

He could remember a time when these tiny, cold hands weren't the center of his world. But that was before the war, before he matured and changed and his two best friends left to start their lives without him. It was his decision to return… but he couldn't help but think that it meant something that Draco, unlike his best friends, had made the same decision he had to stay at Hogwarts and get some closure on the childhood he'd never really had the chance to have.

"Harry," Draco whispered. "I'm sorry. Can we go to bed, now?"

Harry let go of his hands and ran one of his through his hair, nodding. He'd put on pajamas when he'd gotten back after class and he was tired enough that he didn't mind forfeiting the last few hours of his night. "Of course," he answered softly.

Draco paused as Harry stood, then asked timidly. "So you don't mind? Mummy and Daddy did say I should sleep by myself because I'm a big boy, but I—"

"Draco," Harry murmured as soothingly as he could. "Draco, it's fine. Go on, brush your teeth, and we'll sleep, okay?"

Draco nodded, the insecurity leaving his eyes, and scampered off toward the bathroom.

* * *

"You are  _so cute_!"

"Look at his hair! He's positively adorable! Harry, do you dress him?"

"Yes, Harry, do you?"

He took a deep breath and let out a long-suffering sigh. He supposed he was asking for it, letting Draco dress like the aristocrat he was, but really, how obnoxious could two girls act? This was still Draco Lucius Malfoy, even if he was several years younger. They should have a little respect, he thought sullenly. Draco wasn't a doll to play with and they ought to have known that.

"I dressed myself, you twats!" Draco huffed, the first real thing he'd said to them other than 'hello'. The rest of the time he sat there while they played with the ruffles on his button down shirt and his hair, giving them both childishly contemptuous glares. "Harry doesn't need to dress me. He can't even dress himself!"

"Watch your mouth," Harry admonished, but he couldn't help but laugh.

The girls blinked at him in astonishment, then at Harry. "Even as a child, he criticizes your fashion sense," Pansy snickered from the seat next to him. She was doing most of the work on their potion due to the fact that Harry had to help Draco chop the ingredients because he wanted to help. "Not that I blame him. Your fashion sense is horrid."

"Shut up, Pansy," he chuckled, in a surprisingly good mood in spite of the two girls still gaping at them. Draco tugged on Harry's pant leg, a demand to be picked up, and Harry pulled the boy into his lap, who automatically wrapped all four limbs around the brunette.

"Harry," the first girl pouted, seeming a little put out. She didn't seem too fond of Draco anymore. "Don't you think he's getting a bit too big to be all over you like that?" Draco sent her a hateful glare, his grip tightening. Harry knew all of this was some odd possessiveness – really, Harry was pretty much the only one the blonde trusted completely here, and he'd stated before that Harry was his most important person. It was natural to be a little clingy.

"I don't mind," he answered almost absently, stroking Draco's hair. He wasn't going to get in the middle of this one, even if Draco was squeezing him a bit too tight to be comfortable. "I guess he's affectionate. That's okay; I'm a cuddler, too."

Then the words were out of his mouth and he wasn't quite sure why in hell he'd told two fangirls that, but it was true and he couldn't take it back.

Fortunately, neither picked up on what he said. " _He's_ affectionate? Not at his real age, he's not!" the taller of the two, a blonde, snorted. "He's rude and cold and—"

"Hey," Harry snapped just as Pansy was opening her mouth angrily. "He's a friend! A very good friend, and he's a child right now and doesn't need you insulting him." Draco bared his teeth and the brunette girl jerked backward, glaring right back.

"Harry's mine," Draco growled, the sound almost funny in his high voice. "So you should stay away! I'm his favorite; he doesn't want  _you_."

"Draco," Harry sighed. "They don't want me—"

"Yeah, they do," Pansy interjected, still glaring at the two girls who grabbed their bags to make a run for it. "They were flirting with you." She ruffled Draco's hair. "Perceptive, this one," she said fondly, smiling at Draco who gave her an innocent smile in return, his eyes still on the two retreating seventh years.

Draco turned back to bury his face in Harry's chest. "My Harry," he mumbled, sounding drained. Harry nodded, going along with it, and continued to stroke the boy's hair.


	5. Venus Doom

Harry woke up several days later, an exact week from when his charge had aged last, knowing that Draco would have again grown. He groped the bed, not putting the pieces together, searching for the boy, when the screaming finally hit him.

" _Why are you here? I don't want you here! Get out!_ "

"Why am I here? The real question is why are you here, you little brat!"

"You're a Weasley and my dad said that Weasleys are bad! Go away! You'll hurt me or hurt Harry, and I don't want Harry hurt!"

"I'll hurt Harry?  _Why you._..!"

Harry sighed, forcing himself to the edge of the bed. He sat up, glaring at his guest. "That may be the worst wakeup call I've ever gotten from you, ever." In front of his redheaded best friend standing in the portrait hole, the blonde trembled, worrying his lower lip. He was taller again, Harry noted. "Come here, Draco." Without hesitation, the boy flitted to him, not fighting when Harry pulled him into his lap.

Draco weighed a little more than he had for the past week, but only just. He was a such a skinny kid, Harry was tempted to think he was malnourished if it weren't for the fact that Harry watched him eat every day. "Are you okay?"

The blonde nodded, frowning. He was probably convinced he was in trouble, but Harry just brushed back his hair. "Ron," he said and looked up at his redheaded friend. "I love you like a brother, you know that, but I'm not particularly happy about you talking to Draco like that. He's only seven."

"I heard about what happened, but I didn't know that he was living with you," Ron said stiffly. Harry examined him, unhappy to acknowledge that he didn't really recognize the man glaring at him from the entry. He hadn't seen his friend since he'd returned to Hogwarts, only a few months prior, but he was a completely different person. He stood tall, almost arrogantly, in his black robes, his hair slicked back in an Malfoy-esque fashion. Well, to be fair, Draco hadn't slicked his hair back since their second year, but the point remained.

"Narcissa and Lucius are elsewhere," Harry said calmly. "Seeing how I was the only one he recognized, it was decided he would reside with me." Draco held to him tighter and he stroked his hair.  _It is way too early for this shit_. "Look, Ron, why are you here? Not that I'm not pleased to see you, mate – I'm just a bit confused."

Ron snorted, thawing slightly. "It's Christmas tomorrow. Don't tell me you haven't noticed?" Harry blinked, then pulled away to blink at Draco. The blonde looked as surprised as he did, mouth dropping open in shock.

"It's  _Christmas?_ " he squeaked and Harry couldn't help but chuckle as his voice edged up well into boy-soprano territory. "Really?"

"Tomorrow, Draco," he chuckled. "I suppose I forgot."

"Do I get presents!"

Harry ignored Ron's not-so-subtle huff. He knew he didn't like Draco, but Harry was a little irritated that Ron was being so rude to the blonde. Draco was a  _child_  who couldn't even remember Ron despite his Lucius-planted hatred of Weasleys. The Ron he knew was a little more understanding than that. Besides, Harry thought it was sort of cute. It was better that Draco was asking instead of assuming, after all.

"Of course you get presents," he told Draco, though he wasn't entirely sure where he would get those presents or even what to get. Still. He'd manage. He glanced up at Ron again, who was watching them disapprovingly. Harry wasn't entirely sure he gave a damn. Ron was one of his best friends, but he wasn't very impressed with his attitude. He wasn't about to let him talk to Draco the way he had for eight years, not if he wanted to stay.

"So," he said casually. "You leaving tomorrow, or what?"

Ron nodded, relaxing a bit more, letting his guard down. Harry welcomed the normality his blue eyes gave when they weren't ice cold. "Hermione's going to be here later tonight as well. We both asked for today and tomorrow off, but I have to be back after that. Hermione might be able to stay for a while longer, though."

Harry nodded. It would be nice to spend Christmas with his friends, almost nostalgic. He just hoped his friends wouldn't get into a huge fight. "That's great," he said enthusiastically. His gaze shifted to his wand and he reached over, picking it up and casting a quick tempus. "You know, we're in time for breakfast if you want to relive old times."

The redhead nodded, smiling tightly. "Sounds good, mate." Harry nodded, letting a reluctant Draco slip off of his lap.

"Go get dressed. We're going to lunch with everyone else." Draco pouted, but nodded, quickly disappearing into his room. He was starting to walk with the same sashay he always had and Harry wouldn't lie; he was glad to see it.

"You're pretty fond of him."

Harry shrugged out of his pajamas, rolling his eyes. Ron sounded so petulant it was almost pathetic. He tried to remind himself that he couldn't expect his friend to grow up overnight, but he couldn't lie and say he didn't hope that would be the case. Silly prejudices were going to be last thing to go on Ron's journey to adulthood, Harry thought as he pulled on a pair of jeans and a dark grey t-shirt.

"I am fond of him," he responded once fully dressed, noting the way Ron was tastefully turned away from him, turning back when he made it clear he was finished changing. "He's a sweet kid."

"He's  _Malfoy_ ," Ron argued with a wrinkle of the nose. Harry heard a soft noise from the direction of Draco's room and he sighed, knowing that Draco was hearing everything Ron was saying. "I mean, this is the same little twat that's tormented us since first year. He's a right git, Harry – have you forgotten that?"

"We're friends," Harry said shortly, struggling to keep his tone even. "We were mates before the accident, too, Ron, just like you and me. He's a good man despite what you think and we weren't any nicer to him before than he was to us."

"You were  _mates_ with that ferret?"

"Stop calling him that," Harry said firmly. "Maybe it's because you talk to him like that, have you ever thought about that? If we were nice to him – hell, if I'd accepted his hand that day on the train, think about how much easier things would have been for all of us! I could have just told him that I wasn't going to stop being friends with you, but I wanted to be friends with him, too. Instead I brushed him off. If you want to blame anyone for his attitude, blame me, but stop being nasty to him – especially now! He's seven; he doesn't even remember you, Ron!"

Ron was silent for a moment. "I don't understand."

"Of course you don't," Harry snorted. "I'm not going to take the time to explain it now, Ron. Draco? You ready to go?"

As he expected, Draco slid out of his room, guilt clear on his face. Harry didn't give him time to say anything else, however; he just walked over and swung the boy into his arms. Draco clung to him, legs wrapping around his waist. Draco was kind of heavy – he was a seven year old, even if he was smaller than most – but he didn't put him down. He cast a silent feather-light charm on the boy and carried him out of the room.

"You know," he murmured in Draco's ear. "Next week you'll have to start walking yourself." Draco gave a hesitant giggle. "You're getting big."

"I'm going to be big like you," Draco informed him softly, smiling. Harry nodded, grinning.

"And you know what? It's Christmas tomorrow." Draco nodded enthusiastically. "What? Are you excited?" Warming completely, Draco laughed and clapped his hands.

"Yes! I like presents," he informed Harry with a wide smile. "Can I have a snitch? They make snitches for little kids if you don't wanna buy a real one." His smile slipped a little. "It can be a pretty plastic one – I won't break it, I promise. And will you wrap it?"

Harry grinned, trying not to think about what Draco was implying. Had Lucius and Narcissa really never wrapped Draco's presents? He knew that they loved him and he wasn't assuming it was neglect – it was just a little sad. He wondered what it would be like – oh, here Draco, have a present – with no anticipation, no sign of care. He was suddenly very glad that Draco had a good head on his shoulders, understand that it was just his parent's way. He knew plenty of people who would assume that their parents didn't love them. He had to admit, Lucius and Narcissa had gotten lucky, having a son like Draco. It actually made him wonder just when he'd become the snobby boy Harry had met in Madam Malkin's all those years ago, arrogant yet oddly unsure of himself. "Is that what you want, then? Quidditch supplies? A broom?" Draco's eyes widened.

"A  _broom_?" Draco's eyes popped and Ron snorted behind him, probably assuming it was an act. Harry opted to nod and grin at the blonde instead of reprimand his best friend. "You're silly, Harry. Brooms are expensive, my daddy said so. He said I'll just break it."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Your daddy should know that his son is more careful than that. If I bought you a broom, you'd worship it, wouldn't you?" Draco bit his lip and nodded, smiling. "I don't believe you can't fly, though. Did you sneak rides on Lucius's broom?" Draco's cheeks colored and he nodded again, making Harry laugh. He knew that Draco had to have flown before arriving at Hogwarts – after all, their first flying lesson in first year had been less a lesson and more a review for the blonde.

"I like brooms," Draco said quietly. "Cleansweeps are nice."

Harry bit his lips. "I suppose that Cleansweeps are nice, Draco, but there are better brooms out there, you know."

Draco shook his head stubbornly, but Ron interrupted them, somewhat amiably. It almost surprised Harry. "He's right. Harry has one of the best brooms in the world, you know."

Harry rolled his eyes when Draco looked at him in shock. "It used to be," Harry admitted. "I got the Firebolt years ago, though. There are better brooms out now – the Firebolt 3000? Even the Nimbus 360 is pretty impressive." Ron shrugged, as if he didn't care either way, but there was a hint of a smile tugging on the corners of his mouth.

"You play Quidditch, Harry?" If Draco had been in awe of him before, it was nothing compared to how he looked now.

Harry raised his free hand defensively as he came to the first staircase. "Hey, so do you, kiddo. Ron here used to play, too." He got the impression that Ron didn't play very much anymore. The thought was a little sad.

He was amazed when Draco leaned over his shoulder to gape at the redhead following them. "What position did you play?" he asked excitedly, not even asking Harry, and the brunette laughed.

Ron looked taken aback. "Erm, keeper."

"You know, you wrote a song about it," Harry snickered. "The Gryffindors revised it later, but I still remember the words.  _Weasley is our King!_ "

"Shut it, boy-who-lived," Ron snorted. "You are obnoxious, you know that? Herm was right."

"What was I right about?"

Harry spun around, a smile lighting his face. "Hermione!"

"About Harry being obnoxious," Ron answered with a laugh, going forward to give her a hug. "I thought you weren't going to be here until dinner," he said enthusiastically, sounding more like himself than he had all day.

Draco watched in awe as Hermione walked up to them with a huge smile, her long curls bouncing over her back. She looked as good as she ever had, hair sleek, eyes bright. Somehow, though, she too didn't really look like herself. While it made sense for her to be wearing designer while working at the Prophet, Harry hadn't really thought she  _would_. Her clothes were clearly expensive, though, and she wore them well. Her step was lighter, her back straighter, and he was pretty sure that she'd done something else to her teeth because now they were even whiter than they'd been last time they'd met. Her skin was oddly clearer, too, not that it was ever particularly bad in the first place. Harry would have liked to believe that it was maturity and a couple month's worth of growing up, but he knew better.

"Well, I was going to wait, but I finished everything I was working at the office," she answered airily, ignoring Draco for the moment to give Harry a kiss on the cheek. "I would have met you at your room, with Ron, but Professor McGonagal wanted to talk to me." She paused, then said hesitantly, "Hello, Draco."

He responded the way Harry knew he would. "Hello, miss. It's a pleasure to meet you." He gave Hermione a regal nod of his head and Harry chuckled.

"He's very polite," Harry said to Hermione with a smile, then snickered. "When not provoked." Ron glared at Harry and Hermione covered her mouth with her hand, chuckling.

"Well, Draco," Hermione said with a grin. "It's a pleasure to meet you, too. Thank you for taking care of Harry here." Harry rolled his eyes when Draco grinned brightly, nodding. "So, breakfast?" Ron grunted in agreement and started down the stairs, leaving Hermione and Harry chuckling as they followed.

* * *

"Harry! They're so pretty!"

The brunette watched with a small grin as Draco chased two identical silver snitches around the room. The gold ball was still in its case while its sisters, practice snitches, zoomed around, just out of the blonde's grasp.

Little did the boy know that the golden ball was engraved with his name, but Harry knew even if he saw it, Draco wouldn't really care at his age, anyway.

Hermione sat next to Harry at the table with a little smirk on her face. "You know, those were pretty expensive, Harry."

The boy-who-lived shrugged. "It's Christmas and he deserves it. He's a good kid, you know." He paused, then gave her a sheepish grin. "You know, the gold one is personalized. He doesn't have many things like that so I figured, why not? Maybe he'll appreciate it later."

"He'll definitely appreciate it later," Hermione agreed. "I don't think I've ever seen him look so happy."

"Pansy says that he stopped looking that happy at around ten," Harry said musingly, scratching her chin. "Speaking of Pans, she plans to drop by some time here soon. She wasn't able to be here right away – some family thing – but she's coming." He was glad of it – he couldn't hold Ron at bay by himself, though he was off in the kitchens at the moment, and Hermione was of very little help. Pansy's sharp wit would be incredibly helpful when he got back.

"Pansy is coming?" Draco asked, perking up and abandoning the snitch he was chasing, which fluttered for a moment in what looked like confusion were it capable of it before Hermione spelled it to fly into her hand. "Pansy hasn't visited in days. I miss her."

"She misses you, too, kiddo," Harry told him calmly, pulling him onto his lap with a grin. "She's just been busy. You know how her mommy and daddy are."

"Ew. Seriously, get a room!"

Harry pulled a face – immature, but effective. "Don't be a dick, Ron." Immediately, there were small, thin fingers over his mouth.

"No, Harry, that's a bad word! You can't say that!" Draco scolded.

"What can't Harry say?"

Harry didn't have to look over to know that Pansy was in the doorway; all he had to do was hear her voice and the groan from a certain redhead that followed. "What is going on, Harry? Are you only hanging out with Slytherins nowadays?" Ron complained good-naturedly and Harry gave him a look.

"Good morning, Pansy," he said in a deadpan. "Please, do come in. Ron, bugger off if you don't like it." Ron made a face to mirror his own, grimacing and plopping down on the small couch in front of the fireplace, brushing some of Draco's new toys and numerous books – several sent from his parents with fond wishes – onto the floor.

"Don't mind if I do," Pansy snickered, making her way inside. She leaned down, kissing Harry on the cheek and giving Draco a huge hug, ensnaring Harry in turn. "Merry Christmas, you two." She paused, then pulled back. "I had presents for Draco, that I see he's already gotten – damn house elves, I wanted to be there –"

Everyone in the room, including Ron, glanced briefly at the broom set that Draco had spent nearly half an hour gushing over. It may or may not have been Harry's idea, but it didn't mean Pansy didn't deserve the credit, considering she had chosen the model – top of the line when it came to children's brooms. He knew it was expensive – he'd seen it before, not that he was quite sure how Pansy had gotten a hold of it on short notice… unless she'd been planning it for a while. He wouldn't put it past her – after all, he was probably the only person in the world who would forget about Christmas. He still wasn't sure how he'd managed that, honestly, so he supposed it didn't matter.

"We couldn't make him wait any longer," Harry told her amiably. "It's nearly ten! He's waited all day. We had to break down and tell him he could open them after dinner."

"I'm so happy," Draco giggled and Harry wasn't quite sure if he'd been listening to them or just thinking to himself. "This is so much fun! Pansy, did you know Harry took me to play in the snow earlier?"

"I did not know," she answered brightly. "Sounds like a lot of fun! I'm jealous!" She swatted Harry's shoulder playfully, earning herself a roll of the eyes.

"Don't you love Christmas?" Hermione asked cheerfully, ignoring the curious look on Pansy's face. Obviously, the dark-haired Slytherin had expected her to be a little less than friendly. "Everyone gets together and has fun and it's  _wonderful_."

"I love Christmas," Draco agreed with a huge smile. "My daddy says it's when everyone gets to love each other and ignore being mad at each other and you get to spend it with everyone you care about." Draco leaned in and hugged Harry, though he didn't have to lean far. Their cheeks were squished together, but Harry still managed to laugh. "Like Harry – I love Harry, and Harry loves me." He shrugged, then grinned almost impishly. "That's why he lets me sit on his lap when I weigh a lot and I make his legs go numb."

"You're lucky I put up with you," Harry said with a snort and Draco giggled. Harry ran a hand through his hair, reaching his shoulder blades. Harry wouldn't admit it to anyone, but he really liked Draco's hair long. He knew that the blonde would cut it eventually, but he would enjoy it for now.

"I'm your favorite," Draco said, shifting his weight slightly and causing Harry to wince a bit. He had been right; Harry's legs were going a bit numb and yeah, Draco was getting bigger. He was also right in the unspoken assumption that Harry wouldn't push him off.

"Unfortunately," Harry sighed dramatically. "That's true." Draco just grinned at him again – Harry would never get sick of that smile – and snuggled closer.

"I insist on the room!" Ron called and both Harry and Draco, who really didn't understand the implications, stuck their tongues out at him.

"You disgust me," Pansy said plainly. "Why are you here? I don't like you talking about my baby like that and it's not like you're contributing to conversation. By the way, do you realize how offensive that is? He's seven." She paused, then glanced at Harry. "He is seven, right? He was six last week, I think. If he's eight I think I'll shoot myself – tell me he's not eight!"

Harry laughed, but he understood the feeling. "He's seven; you're right. Calm down." Draco, wiggling in his lap, made a face, obviously unsure of whether or not he should be offended or not. In the end, he seemed to decide against it and shrugged, laying his head on Harry's shoulder.

"Come on," Pansy chuckled. "I see a couple more over there! Let's open them!" With a dramatic sigh, Harry let Draco slip off his lap and proceed to pull the brunette from his chair.

"Come on, Harry!" Draco insisted. "Pansy's right; there's three more! I bet they're from Daddy!"

Harry relaxed on the couch next to Ron, taking the brief smile from the redhead as a good sign.

"Look, Harry! It's a cauldron set!" Harry smiled faintly; he'd forgotten about that one. Severus had insisted he buy it on his behalf – being dead was apparently no excuse to not give Christmas gifts to children, after all.

That night, after Pansy had gone back to her dorm and his friends had retired to a couple guest rooms near the entrance hall, Harry slipped into bed in the darkness of their rooms, unsurprised to feel a ball of Malfoy already under the covers.

"I had fun today, Harry," Draco whispered sleepily, hugging a chocolate brown teddy bear close. Harry kissed him on the forehead before proceeding to kiss the bear's nose, causing Draco to giggle.

He'd bought it spur of the moment a couple weeks prior but had held onto it, unsure of when to give it to the boy. He wasn't even certain Draco would like it, but the minute he'd pulled it out of the box, wrapping carefully undone and undamaged, he'd heard Draco squeal so loudly he'd known right away it was a good purchase. "I've never had a teddy bear before," Draco had told him. "Mommy and Daddy think that muggle toys are bad… but I think it's cute." He'd paused and said after clearing his throat, "But I'm not some little kid, you know. It's just… nice, whatever." He had been blushing so bright his nose was pink.

"I understand," Harry had said calmly, not teasing even though Hermione was giggling to herself in the background and Ron was mumbling to himself about snobby rich kids. "It's just nice to have one. I should probably buy myself one, shouldn't I?" Draco had cracked a smile and hugged him, much like he was doing then – limbs wrapped around Harry's frame under the covers.

"Good night, Draco," Harry murmured.

"Night, Harry," he responded, his words muffled by Harry's shoulder. "Love you."

Feeling slightly choked up, he wrapped an arm around his ward properly. "Love you, too, kid."


	6. Heartache Every Moment

Harry stopped bringing Draco to class around the time he aged to about eight because surprisingly enough, eight-year-old Draco was more difficult to entertain than four-year-old Draco. It shouldn't have surprised him; now that Draco was old enough to want to do Harry's potion by himself rather than be content to just mash some ingredients in Potions and he refused to just read a book during his other classes, he just sat around sulking, muttering to himself about how he was 'plenty old enough to brew a bloody potion or wave his wand'.

Technically, Harry hadn't even given Draco back his wand. He wasn't supposed to have it until he was eleven and so it remained locked inside his trunk.

So he sat with Pansy in Potions, actively ignoring Reich and wondering idly what Dobby had Draco doing. He knew that Draco was spending a lot of time on the Quidditch pitch. It was almost surprising, how good Draco was. He was clumsy, but his technique was good and Harry could see how Draco had been as good as he was their first year. He practiced a lot – almost preferred flying over spending time with Harry, which he could admit stung a bit.

Pansy was humming to herself as she chopped up something – despite his extra potions lessons, Harry couldn't tell what it was other than it was some kind of leaf – with a faint smile. She looked tired, strands of brown-black hair tucked behind her ear.

"Are you going to help or stare at me?"

Harry laughed. "You know Reich would give me full marks even if I did just sit here and stare at you for the entire class," he told her with a grin and she rolled her eyes, sliding the leaves off the cutting board and into the cauldron with the knife.

"He probably would," she agreed with a glance toward their professor, who was currently hitting on one of the Patil twins – Harry couldn't tell which one, but logic told him that it was Parvati, partially because Padma was in Ravenclaw and because he was pretty sure Padma hadn't returned to Hogwarts after the war. "So, have you decided what you're doing about him yet?"

Harry blinked at her in confusion. "What I'm  _doing_ about him? What is there to do?"

Pansy gave him a small smile, obviously trying to get her mind out of the gutter and making Harry wince at his bad wording. "Instead of telling a bad joke that will end badly for both of us, I'll state the obvious. He's hitting on you something awful. Aren't you going to tell him to bugger off or something?"

"Yes, telling a professor to bugger off definitely sounds good for my grade." He rolled his eyes at Pansy's exasperated sigh.

"Report him or something, then! I'm pretty sure he grabbed at your arse the other day when we were leaving! This is getting out of hand," she replied, stirring their cauldron with a frown.

Harry couldn't help but snicker at her under his breath. "First off, Pans, I think it's my choice when it's getting out of hand or not, isn't it? And second, I'm not interested. I'm desperate, but not  _that_  desperate."

Pansy gave him a fond roll of the eyes. "You're not desperate, you big goon," she snorted. "You could date anyone you wanted. It's your choice that you don't. And even if you were, I can't picture you getting desperate enough to shag a professor."

"How right you are," he agreed with a cheeky grin. "After all, I'm not the one who had a crush on Professor Lupin in third year –"

"I'm regretting telling you things," she hissed at him with a sharp glare, smacking his arm playfully. "Seriously regretting it."

But Harry was quiet, only giving her a weak smile in return. The words had been out of his mouth before he'd thought about them, but it felt wrong to be so flippant when saying 'Professor Lupin'. He missed Remus with an ache that never really went away, just like he still thought about Sirius damn near constantly. They'd all lost people in the war, but sometimes he got the impression he lost more than others. Remus, Sirius, Fred, his parents, Dumbledore, even Severus. So many people lost.

He frowned, shaking his head. He did that sometimes, going off on thought processes that would leave a bitter taste in his mouth for the rest of the day. It happened less and less now that he was spending most of his time with Draco, but it still happened.

"You okay?" Pansy asked him quietly, ducking her head to look up at him through thick lashes. "You got really quiet there."

He shrugged. "Yeah, I'm fine," he answered, handing her a bottle clearly marked 'unicorn blood'. He wrinkled his nose, but he supposed that for one of the most unpleasant poisons in the world, who wouldn't need some unicorn blood?

They were quiet for the rest of class, only the vague chattering of their classmates to hold off the silence. Thankfully, class ended just as Harry was about to die of boredom (perhaps another reason why he did so badly in that class) and everyone but him and Pansy rushed out, leaving them to clean up as the only two who had worked until the end of class.

Harry sighed, packing up his things. He was nearly finished, parchment neatly rolled up, quill tucked away, and was in the process of locating the stopper for his ink when he felt someone come up against him, laying a hand on his shoulder. From the irritated huff Pansy sent in his direction, he had no problems figuring out who it was violating his personal space.

"Harry, my boy!"

He made a face that had Pansy smirking. For some reason, Reich was reminding him of Slughorn - overeager and almost creepy in his enthusiasm. Far more attractive and far younger, but they were made of the same stuff. They didn't make friends - they had  _trophies._

"Can I help you, professor?" he asked as calmly as possible, giving him an absent half smile.

"I was wondering if you might be interested in a little get together I'm having with several of my best students," he explained cheerfully, running a hand through blonde hair and Harry had to resist the urge to groan loudly. Of course. "Just a little dinner, a sharing of potions tips. A chance to get out of your dorm for the night!"

"First of all, he doesn't stay in the dorms anymore -" Pansy started, annoyance clear on her face, but Harry held up a hand.

"Look, professor, I have no interest in being part of another Slug Club." Ignoring Reich's confusion, he slung his bag over his shoulder, his eyes spying a blonde head poking into the door to the room. "Besides which, I'm certainly not one of your best students. I'm horrible at potions."

"Of course you're not," Reich responded with an unsure grin. "You're doing just fine." Harry rolled his eyes.

"I'm doing 'just fine' because I have Pansy for a partner, professor, and because of Draco's help. He's the one you should be inviting, not me. The only reason I'm still in potions is because I had Severus's old textbook to help me through sixth year. So thank you for the consideration, but no thanks." At the sound of his name, Draco had slipped into the room, walking as slowly as he could toward Harry. Pansy smirked when she realized he was sneaking around Reich, who didn't notice he was there until the boy slid around and wrapped both arms around Harry's waist from the side.

"Mr. Malfoy!" Reich exclaimed, surprise washing away his frown.

Draco reached Harry's chest now, the growth spurt far more impressive than the others previous, and the blonde rested his head against Harry's flank, glaring at the professor. "I don't like you," he said bluntly. "Quit looking at my Harry like that." His voice was just the slightest bit deeper again, still higher than average, but his anger made him seem more threatening than he really was.

"Like what?" Reich asked, beginning to smirk. Harry tried not to glare at him; he, just like everyone else, was overestimating Draco. Well, he was about to be proved wrong.

"Like you want to eat him," Draco snapped, his fist tightening in Harry's shirt. Pansy burst out laughing, making no attempt to hide it, and Reich sent her a dark look. "Harry's mine and you can't have him and you're  _gross_."

"You tell him, Draco," Pansy snickered and Draco sent her a half-grin.

Reich, on the other hand, looked like he was about to blow his top. His cheeks were red, obscuring his freckles, and his eyes were dark. His expression was a bit confusing - it gave off the impression he wasn't sure whether he wanted to be angry, embarrassed, or upset. "I don't - that is just inappropriate."

"Yes, it is," Pansy snickered. "But hey. To each his own."

Reich took a deep breath. "Look, Mr. Malfoy. I'm having a get together to night for my best students in the empty classroom down the hall and I hear you're quite the potions master." The eight year old didn't look impressed. Harry wondered if it was his father who had taught him that poker face. "Would you be interesting in attending? Harry can of course accompany you... and Miss Parkinson." Pansy made a face, like she really wasn't very interested in accompanying them, but they all knew that if Harry let Draco go, she would be going with them.

"I may," Draco said with a suspicious look. "The matter will be thought over." Harry smiled in lieu of laughing at him, getting a kick out of how adorable his ward was. Ah, his little aristocrat in training. Draco frowned at Reich one more time before looking up at Harry. "I'm hungry. Is it dinner time yet?" They'd taken to eating in the great hall, now that Draco was old enough, and Harry nodded. He pulled his wand out to summon the stopper from wherever it had rolled to and it flew into his hand. He stuck it on the ink and stuffed the bottle in the pocket of his bag.

He leaned down, gently taking Draco's hand, and sent a brief smile at the dumbstruck professor. "We may see you tonight, professor." Despite his vague irritation at Reich's overly obvious flirting, he did like the man. He made him laugh and at least tried to include everyone in spite of his obvious preferences.

"Goodbye, Harry," Reich sighed. He sounded tired and Harry couldn't help but feel bad for him. Pansy called it seeing the good in bad people while Harry called it compassion, but it boiled down to the same thing. He was trying to be nice to everyone, especially after the war. "Mr. Malfoy, Miss Parkinson."

Harry led Draco out, Pansy hot on their heels, and Harry rolled his eyes the minute she opened her mouth. " _Miss Parkinson, Mr. Malfoy_ \- and he just calls you  _Harry_. How obnoxious!"

"He's overly familiar with you," Draco grumbled, squeezing Harry's hand.

"Where did you learn to talk like that?" he asked, chuckling and squeezing back.

"Father," Draco said with a toss of his head, making his hair swish slightly. Harry was almost sad to hear the 'daddy' and 'dad' go, but he'd already known that Draco would lose the childish informality.

"Where's the elf?" Pansy asked grumpily, knowing that Harry wanted her to drop the subject of Reich. He'd given her a raised eyebrow and a frown when she'd opened her mouth the first time and she didn't want to upset him. "Wasn't he taking care of you all day?"

Draco shrugged his slender shoulders. "He dropped me off at Uncle Severus's old classroom and left to help prepare dinner. He knew I was safe. Besides, I'm not a baby anymore, Pansy. I can watch myself for a few minutes." He pouted at her and Harry smiled.

"Of course you can," Harry agreed, then grinned. "But you still have to be watched by Dobby. Until you're at least eleven." Draco rolled his eyes, but leaned against Harry's side again. "So, do you  _want_ to go tonight?"

Draco looked up at him. "To Professor Reich's party?" Harry nodded and Draco looked down, his expression making it very clear how little he liked the man. "It would be nice to get out of our rooms," he grumbled quietly and Pansy sighed loudly, knowing she was going as well, whether she really wanted to or not.

"I don't mind going," Harry said gently. Draco shrugged. "So we're going?" A nod. "All right then." He sent a half smile in Pansy's direction and she huffed at him, but she couldn't not smile for long as they made their way through the crowd and into the Great Hall. While they still had tables for each house, but it was far more laid back. Slytherins and Ravenclaws sat together, Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs, Ravenclaws and Gryffindors. Slytherins didn't often sit with Gryffindors or vice versa, but they were the exception.

He thanked the gods that Pansy and Ginny had come to a truce, he thought as he sat down with Neville, Luna, and the redhead. Draco had no qualms about squeezing in between Harry and Dean Thomas, who gave him a smile and moved his things over to make more room.

It didn't surprise Harry in the slightest that it took Pansy all of five minutes to bring up the subject of Reich with Ginny and start complaining. If there was one thing they had in common, it was that they enjoyed complaining about things and Reich was a favorite topic. Harry did his best to ignore them, though Draco was paying rapt attention. It confused him to no end. He just couldn't understand why Draco hated the man so much. He was annoying, sure, but he was kind of funny and nice enough.

"I just don't understand it," Pansy was saying near the end of dinner, waving her fork around it what was clearly an aggravated gesture. "I mean, be more obvious, why don't you?" She took a vicious stab at the chicken on her plate.

"You know, he's not even really hitting on the girls anymore," Ginny pointed out as she finished her potatoes. "Genevieve May is actually getting a bit angsty over it. She used to be his focus of attention in our class and now it's like he just doesn't give a damn about her."

"That's because he's too busy planning how to seduce Harry," Pansy grumbled. "You'd think he could get a boyfriend his own age."

Harry sighed, running a hand through his hair, and looked down at Draco, who was listening to the girls' conversation with pursed lips. He set a hand on Draco's head and the boy glanced up at him, the irritation melting away. "Harry?" The blonde had been finished eating for a while now and Harry felt to qualms about leaving.

"You want to go get dressed for the party tonight?" he asked softly. The boy was still in dirt-covered shorts and a black button up and Harry didn't have to be a mind reader to know that he would want to change. He'd been out flying and playing by the lake with Dobby for most of the day and Draco nodded eagerly. He looked relieved to clean up and Harry got up, taking Draco's hand and leading him out.

"Hi, Harry," a couple Ravenclaws cooed and he gave them a weak smile that felt a little more like a grimace. "Hi, Draco!"

He'd definitely become more manipulative in the year he'd aged, because Draco just gave them a childish smile, though his eyes were dark, and waved. "Hi, ladies!" he said sweetly and the girls swooned, giving Harry enough time to hurry them down the aisle.

"You're getting good at that," Harry chuckled quietly and Draco grinned up at him, hanging off of his arm.

"It's a talent," he chirped and Harry laughed loudly.

The castle felt warm as opposed to mildly cold and Harry supposed that she was happy. He knew that the building was fond of him, but she seemed even friendlier lately. He was glad that the castle was watching out for Draco, who got lost fairly easily. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that he skipped everywhere and didn't really pay much attention to where he was going.

It surprisingly didn't take Draco long to get dressed – if Harry knew him at all, he'd probably been planning his outfit since they'd come to a decision about the party. He came out of his closet in a pair of black slacks and a dark silver shirt, grinning proudly when Harry gave him a thumbs up. In his fist, still small but no longer the length of one of Harry's fingers, he clutched a dark robe and Harry took it, settling it over the blonde's shoulders and fastening it.

"You ready, then?" Harry asked with a smile. His clothes had taken a moment to change – slacks a slightly darker shade of grey and a simple white button down. Just as they were about to leave the room, however, Harry heard a small squeak and caught just a flash of blonde hair before Draco was back with his chocolate colored bear. Harry raised his eyebrows at his huge, hopeful grin.

"Are you still trying to charm the girls?"

Draco cocked his head to the side. "… No?" Harry laughed and the boy pouted. "I like my bear, Harry. Father would say I'm too old for stuffed animals, but I still like it." He paused and hugged the bear a tad tighter. "I want to bring it."

"This isn't exactly the kind of party you can bring a teddy bear to, Draco," Harry pointed out with a sigh. "You could lose him."

"And you could just accio him back, couldn't you?" Draco argued with a sweet smile, and Harry had to give it to him – the kid was good.

"All right," he said in defeat, taking Draco's free hand and leading them out. "But keep your eye on it, okay? Don't set it down anywhere and forget about it."

"It's my favorite toy, Harry," Draco told him with a roll of the eyes. "Of course I'll take good care of it." In spite of the annoyance in his voice, he squeezed Harry's hand and gave him a half smile. They set off down the hall toward the empty classroom Reich has instructed them to go to. Draco didn't seem particularly pleased though it was his idea, hugging the bear so tight Harry thought for a second that he would perhaps squeeze the stuffing out, but that was ridiculous. Muggle toy or not, it had been  _produced_ by wizards and there was no way it wasn't magicked not to tear easily.

"Harry!" Reich greeted him with a huge grin as he saw them sweeping down the hall. Draco gave him a sour glare and hung on Harry's arm.

"Professor," Harry greeted him, making an effort to be friendly. Other than the constant flirting, he really didn't seem like that bad a guy.

"Please, call me Kristopher," the man laughed loudly, the sound full and warm. Harry had to give it to him – he wasn't  _fake_. It wasn't like he was dancing around the subject, either. He figured it could be far worse.

"He will do no such thing; it's improper," Draco sniffed at his side, sounding displeased at best and pissed at worst. "You're a professor and he'll call you professor." The boy bared his teeth and Reich raised an eyebrow, clearly unsettled but not backing down.

"Don't you think you're a bit possessive of him?" If Harry didn't know any better, he would have said that Reich was mocking him, riling him on purpose – but why in hell would he go after _Draco_ , even if he wanted Harry? He had no reason.

"Harry's mine," Draco said shortly. His grey eyes blazed.

"Can we just go inside and join the others now?" Harry asked desperately, not wanting a confrontation between the grown man and the eight year old. He could hear the faint sound of music, obviously mostly contained by a spell of some sort, and laughter.

Reich gave Draco a measured look before pasting a forced smile to his lips. "Of course, Harry. Mr. Malfoy. I apologize for holding you up." He gestured for them to go before him and Harry led the irritated blonde inside, shortly followed by his professor. "There's refreshments on that side of the room," Reich said into his ear, which despite Draco's growl at their proximity, was probably a good thing because the room was surprisingly packed with laughing, dancing students.

"Quite the get together," Harry responded amiably with a smile, making Reich – Kristopher? – laugh. "I'd say it was a party if I didn't know any better!"

Harry couldn't help but laugh with Reich. "So I may have gotten overzealous with my invitations," he chuckled with a wink. "But you guys all deserve a night off. We don't have near enough events like this at Hogwarts. Or at all." Harry agreed with him, wondering just why Draco disliked him so much. He could understand possession, but Draco did seem extraordinarily prejudiced.

"I'm going to take Draco for something to eat," Harry told him with a quick grin. "He's a sucker for sweets." Draco huffed at him without words, but a smile was twitching his lips upward anyway.

It didn't shock Harry that the minute Draco saw the refreshments table he ripped himself from Harry's side and ran to them with a wide grin before remembering who he was and slowing his steps and schooling his face. Harry wasn't sure if he should laugh or frown at Draco's actions. He knew the boy was slowly becoming the practiced, careful man he had known, but it was still hard, watching the change happen, both so slowly and too fast.

"How does he do that?" a voice asked him curiously and Harry looked over to see Ginny, who gave him a brief smile. After a quick glance, he could see Neville and Luna on the other side of the room, talking animatedly – well, animatedly for Luna, whose expression was more of calm pleasure. "Go from a child to a miniature adult in less than a second?"

"I haven't the slightest idea," he sighed. "It's strange. I've seen him as a grown man, a true Malfoy, and I've seen him as a child. It's odd, watching the transformation happen."

She laid a hand on his arm for comfort. "It is odd. I almost feel sad to watch the child part of him go, and I barely know him – as a child or otherwise."

He nodded, glad that she understood. Ginny had always seemed so much wiser than him, more mature – it was why he'd been attracted to her initially. It hadn't worked out, but it  _had_ pushed them together into a close friendship.

"Hello, Ginny," Draco greeted her politely when he turned with a plate full of sweets, allowing her a glittering smile. Harry knew he was formal with her because of the blood politics ingrained in his brain from his father, but he also knew that Draco liked Ginny. She didn't treat him like a baby, for one, and he appreciated that. She was also developing a regal air that Draco could clearly appreciate. "Harry, can we go say hello to Pansy?" Harry couldn't refuse even if he wanted to, especially not when those huge grey eyes were turned on him.

"Of course we can," he agreed, giving the boy a little push forward an sending a grin Ginny's way. "We'll catch you later, yeah?"

"Of course," she agreed with a nod. Her smile was pursed with effort from keeping it from growing.

He let Draco's chatter lead him along to Pansy's side, who looked disgruntled and unhappy about where she was, yet relieved when she caught sight of them. Her slender fame was draped in a navy dress so dark it was nearly black, hanging off one shoulder. It stopped mid-thigh and was  _just_ casual enough to not look out of place. "Oh, thank god," she breathed once they were in range, leaning down to kiss Draco's forehead. "Angels, the both of you." She paused, then added sternly, "That was never said, mind you."

"Never," Harry agreed gravely. "Draco and I must be losing our minds-" Pansy smacked him on the arm with a small smile before leaning up and pressing a soft kiss to his cheek that had him quirking an eyebrow.

"Let's dance," she said when she retreated. "I've been curious about your skills – you seemed adequate enough in fourth year – and I want to test them out for myself.

Harry laughed when Draco agreed at once, seemingly fascinated by the idea of getting to see Harry dance. As it turned out, he didn't even have the time to answer before his friend took his hand and led him to the floor. "There's a difference between formal ball dancing and  _this_ ," Harry pointed out, but he was stopped from saying anything more when Pansy laughed and moved her body to the beat of the song – which, thank god, was something other than CelestinaWarbeck, who happened to be the only non-muggle artist he knew no thanks to Mrs. Weasley.

"You're awful!" she exclaimed with a chuckle when he finally gave in and danced with her, cheesy movements that had even him laughing. Pansy's own laughter made a couple other people around them pause before turning away and resuming their conversations and dances. "Yet somehow, completely charming."

"Golden Boy," he told her helpfully, taking her hand and spinning her, inducing more snickers at his expense. "It's in the job description."

Pansy grinned at him, but it was softer somehow. "It's nice not to see you bitter about that. I used to think you would be, after you became friends with Draco and it was obvious you weren't an attention getter."

"You hated me then!" he argued, confused but smiling. She rolled her eyes.

"I didn't hate you," she responded, shrugging her shoulders delicately, now swaying to the music. Delicate wasn't a word he ever would have associated with her, but he could see now that she was. Just like Draco, and just as graceful. "But I've gotten over that, haven't I,  _Golden Boy_?" He rolled his eyes and spun her again, but before they could resume their mockery of a dance, he was pulled away.

"Professor," he acknowledged with wide eyes, unsure of what was going on. He was being pulled across the room. "Can I help you?"

Reich was biting his lip as he pulled Harry into a dark corner. "We should talk," he said, his voice deeper and rougher than normal. Harry's eyebrows shot up, but his surprise vanished when he was maneuvered against the wall, Reich's body almost completely covering his.

"This isn't talking," he said, unsuccessfully trying to squirm away.

"No, it's not," Reich agreed. His eyes, normally blue, were navy colored, his pupils dilated slightly. "But there is talking involved. You must know I'm interested in you, Harry."

"As you've made obvious," he agreed edgily, not liking where this was going. "And it's entirely inappropriate, Professor-"

"Kristopher," Reich corrected and Harry made a face. "Inappropriate only in the eyes of some, Harry. There's nothing in my contract against it. Perfectly legal. You're eighteen."

"And uninterested," he answered, beginning to feel the slightest bit irritated. "I'm the caretaker for an eight-year-old, Profess-" At the huff, he rolled his eyes. " _Kristopher_. I'm not about to go jump into a relationship right now. I have priorities. And I get the feeling that you're looking for more than a quick fuck."

"Several quick fucks, actually," Reich answered, his eyes burning with a fire Harry was used to seeing in teenage girls, admirers, because he had to face it – he was apparently a universal inspirer of lust. "But more than that. I like you, Harry."

And he was probably serious, Harry had to give him that, but he couldn't really  _give_ him anything else. "I'm sorry, Professor," he said, then sighed when the man's eyes darkened. "Kristopher. But I'm afraid I'll have to say no. I just can't –"

His words were cut off by warm lips, clearly talented and licking and suckling and biting at his lips. He pulled away the slightest bit, as much as he could and opened his mouth to protest, but instead it only invited the blonde to fuck his way into Harry's mouth, tongue expertly exploring him. His hands, poised on Reich's chest to push him away, curled into his robes without his express permission. He would admit without too much self-loathing that Reich was a good kisser – he could keep Harry occupied for a little while, but not for long, and after a moment (or minute) of shock and letting himself enjoy the first real kiss he'd experienced since his and Ginny's official goodbye kiss, he did manage to push Reich away.

"I'm not interested," he repeated, the hard glint in his eyes too much for even Reich to ignore. The blonde sighed, moving away slightly.

"I'm not going to give up," he warned when Harry brushed off his robes, and the brunette rolled his eyes.

"Surely not," he said under his breath, grumbling as he walked away.

"What was that?" Pansy hissed as he got within range. Her hand was on Draco's shoulder. "You can't just run off! Draco was in a state of panic!"

"I was not," the smaller blonde muttered. Harry sighed, reaching down to pet Draco's head. His hair was so much prettier than Reich's, he thought somewhat immaturely. He wasn't exactly happy with his professor, but he wasn't going to cause a fuss.

"I was pulled away," he answered smoothly.  _Literally_. "But it wasn't important and I'm back now." He leaned in and kissed Pansy's cheek the same way she'd done to him earlier. "Can we go?"

She examined his expression, her cheeks slightly pink, and nodded. "I think that's for the best," she agreed, and took his arm as Draco took his other hand. She was the one leading them to the door and Harry was grateful for her. He was too tired to lead himself.

"Are you okay, Harry?" she asked him as they stood outside the portrait to their room, Nigen watching them curiously. "You're not going to tell me what happened, are you?"

"No," he answered softly, yawning. "It's not a big deal. Maybe I'll tell you tomorrow, after I've slept and had time to think about it, okay? I just want to go to bed, and I'm sure Draco's tired, too." He didn't get to enjoy the party much, and Harry felt bad. He hoped Draco wasn't too angry with him.

"Go to bed," she said with a roll of her dark eyes, and he smiled sleepily, leaning down, pressing another kiss to her cheek. It was a little too close to her mouth, but though she blushed she didn't say anything and Harry knew that Pansy was his friend. She wouldn't get any wrong ideas.

" _Open_ ," he hissed at the portrait, and Nigen let them pass with a flick of the tongue and a hiss of  _sleep before you keel over, human_.

Draco followed him in and got dressed for bed silently. When it came time to turn in, teeth brushed and pajamas on, he curled up next to Harry with his bear - which, to be honest, Harry had fully expected him to lose sometime during the party or at the very least get messy with his cakes, but he did not. The bear tucked under his arm, Draco nuzzled his nose into Harry's shoulder. He'd slept in his own bed a couple nights that week, but he still preferred sleeping with Harry, which was fine. He welcomed the warm comfort and was out like a light within minutes.


	7. Sweet Pandemonium

It was always disorienting, Harry realized, every time he woke up to find Draco had aged again. Even if he knew it was coming, it was one thing to  _know_ something was going to happen and a whole other thing to see the change so rapidly. It always worried Draco when he saw Harry with wide eyes and a slack jaw, so he was glad that Draco was still sleeping on the pillow next to him. His hand was on Harry's shoulder, so close that though Draco's head was on the pillow instead of Harry's chest, his left leg was still tucked over Harry's abdomen.

He managed to smile, taking deep, even breaths and reaching out to brush a long strand of blonde hair away from Draco's face. It was definitely time for a haircut – it reached down to just past his shoulder blades, aided by the fact that they'd avoided cutting it. He wasn't sure how Draco would feel about that – he liked tying his hair back with a ribbon the way his father so often did, but he also knew that Draco –  _his_ Draco, the adult one – preferred it short.

As if on cue, Draco's nose scrunched up and he opened his eyes blearily, taking a moment to let them focus on Harry before he smiled sleepily. "Good morning, Harry. Did I grow again?" Draco's voice was just a tad deeper and Harry almost frowned, or at the very least sighed.

Instead, though, he nodded and gave Draco a smile. "Yeah, you grew again. And it's time for a haircut, love." It was a little odd, calling him love when he was looking so much older, so similar to the boy he knew. In two more weeks he would be that eleven year old he'd met in Madam Malkin's and Harry couldn't help but worry, even if prematurely. Would Draco hate him again? Would the memories of their first year together drive out the affection he felt for him now?

He pushed those thoughts out of his head when Draco, who had been holding himself up on his elbows, leaned down to press a kiss to his cheek that landed on the corner of his mouth. "What are we doing today, Harry?" he asked sleepily.

"I was thinking Hogsmeade," Harry mused, smiling when Draco beamed at him. "What? Did you want to go to Hogsmeade? Good idea?"

"I've  _always_ wanted to go to Hogsmeade!" Draco whispered excitedly, his voice urgent in childlike simplicity. "Pansy told me they have a candy shop there, Harry. With all sorts of candy. Mother always buys me candy when we go to Diagon Alley. Will you buy me candy in Hogsmeade?"

"I'll buy you all the candy you want. Their candy shop, Honeydukes, is the best," Harry answered, sitting up and thanking Merlin that he was over the whole morning wood thing he'd been plagued with through puberty. That would have been so much more awkward to subject Draco to, especially since most nights, Draco insisted on sleeping in his bed. "But first, we have to get out of bed. Go brush your teeth and get dressed, okay?"

It surprised him very little that Draco was out of bed in a second, scampering off toward the bathroom. He noticed a little sadly it wasn't really like scampering anymore, though - he was too big to scamper, now he was just hurrying like any other kid to get ready for a fun day.

"Draco?" Harry called, hating how faint his voice sounded.

"Yes, Harry?" His voice hadn't deepened to the familiar tenor quite yet and Harry was thankful for that.

"How old are you now?"

"Nine, Harry," Draco replied, sounding so damn amused it was like the Draco he knew had been returned to him. He poked his head out of the bathroom, giving Harry a curious look. "Why?"

"Nothing, love," he sighed and Draco beamed at him, clearly pleased with the endearment. "You finished?"

"I thought you wanted to cut my hair, Harry." Did he  _have_ to sound so reasonable at so early an hour? Granted, it was probably eight or nine and they'd probably missed breakfast, but still. He'd only just woken up.

"Right," he agreed, yawning. "You're right. Haircut first, then food, then clothes. Or clothes, then food. Something."

Draco laughed, leaving the bathroom and bouncing back onto the bed and into Harry's lap, who was so used to being weighed down by the blonde that he hardly noticed the difference. "Are you sure you're awake, Harry? We can always go to Hogsmeade later and just sleep in for a little while."

"We already slept in," he chuckled, ruffling long blonde hair. "Nah, I'd rather not repeat the whole waking up process. Let's cut your hair and get dressed,  _then_ food."

"Very good idea, Harry," Draco agreed with another giggle, planting a kiss on his cheek before running off again. Harry prayed to the heavens that the little tingle he felt go through his body had nothing to do with Draco as he slid out of bed, stretching. Draco was watching him oddly, his expression one of childish curiosity. "Harry?"

"Yes?" he yawned again, casting Draco a glance as he pulled a shirt off of the back of his desk chair and pulling it over his head.

"Why don't you wear a shirt to bed?" he asked, his voice making it clear he was simply honestly wondering. "Don't get me wrong, you have very lovely abdominal muscles and I don't mind so much because for being named Harry, you're not, actually, but I don't understand. Mother and Father always wear full outfits to bed."

In spite of himself, a light blush painted his cheeks pink. Yes, Draco was definitely growing up. "Well, I'm not as proper as your mother and father, am I? I get hot very easily and I don't see the point in wearing a shirt to bed, I suppose. If it bothers you, I can start…"

Draco cocked his head to the side before shrugging. "It doesn't really bother me. I was just wondering. Are you going to cut my hair now?"

He chuckled and nodded, padding over the soft carpet to the bathroom. Draco was perched on the edge of a little stool that normally sat in front of his child-sized vanity, placed in the shower area. He beamed up at Harry as he grabbed the scissors from a drawer under the mirror and he rolled his eyes, snipping off locks of soft, pale hair with as much precision as he could. When he finished, Draco's hair was chin length in front and a little shorter in back for his gelling pleasure. "This is an odd hairstyle, Harry."

The brunette rolled his eyes, hoisting Draco up and leading him to the vanity. "It's for a reason. See, you look nice," he said, gesturing toward the image in the mirror. "If you wanted to, you could gel it back. That's what you did for the first two years we knew each other."

"I would look very proper, wouldn't I?" Draco mused to himself, examining the haircut at all angles. In the end, though, he just tucked a strand behind his ears and stood, hugging Harry around the middle. "I'd rather leave it like this. I'm going to go get dressed, okay, Harry?" He nodded, not like he would ever be able to do anything else considering how huge and innocent those grey eyes were (he was starting to think that was on purpose though. Draco was, after all, a master manipulator). "You should get dressed, too. You can't go into town in your pajamas."

Harry rolled his eyes, reaching down to tickle him just the slightest bit before Draco squirmed away. "I'll get dressed if you do. Go on!"

Draco was out of the room in record time and Harry shook his head, chuckling to himself.

In half an hour they were dressed, fed, and scolded by Dobby, who had apparently thought he was going to take Draco all day and was now incredibly disappointed. Draco had thought the whole situation funny and giggled to himself as they walked down to the village, earning a smile from McGonagall as she sent them through. "It's so nice being of age," Harry sighed happily, stretching again quickly to avoid gawking as his shirt rode up.

"Why's that?" Draco asked, dressed in a snug grey coat, grey mittens, and some silly fur hat that reminded Harry vaguely of the monstrosity he'd work in third year. He couldn't deny that it was adorable, though, and he couldn't argue with Draco over wearing it.

"I used to get a lot of fuss over the permission slip to go to Hogsmeade," he explained. "My aunt and uncle refused to sign it, unfortunately."

"Didn't they want you to have fun?" Draco asked, cocking his head to the side the way he so often did when he was confused over something. Harry bit his lip, knowing he'd screwed up. Just because eighteen year old Draco knew about his childhood didn't mean that nine year old Draco needed to. As a matter of fact, he would really prefer it if Draco didn't know, but it was too late now.

"Not really, love," he answered quietly. "My aunt and uncle weren't very nice people. They weren't very fond of me because they didn't like magic." Understatement of the year award goes to Mr. Harry Potter!

Draco frowned, then slipped his gloved hand into Harry's and looked up at him with those huge eyes he could deny nothing. "I'll love you enough to make up for them, okay?" he said after a short pause and Harry smiled sadly. He could only hope that Draco would maintain that mentality in the upcoming weeks.

"Thanks, Draco," he answered and squeezed his hand. "So where are we going first?" he asked as they stepped into the hustle and bustle of the village. "Honeydukes or Zonko's?"

"Honeydukes!"

He really should have seen that one coming, he acknowledged with a roll of the eyes. Draco was grinning from ear to ear, skipping as much as he could without leaving Harry behind or letting go of his hand, and swung their arms happily.

He led them through the village and they made their way past the Three Broomsticks, pausing for a moment as Ginny and Pansy came out. They immediately caught sight of the blonde and his much larger friend, smiling back at Draco. Pansy looked a little uncomfortable, like she still wasn't comfortable in Ginny's presence, but Harry knew just how hard Ginny was working to attempt to make a friendship work between them and he was glad that there was some progress. They got on rather well all things considered.

"So where are we going?" Ginny asked as the two girls fell into step with them, Pansy taking Draco's side and Ginny taking Harry's. Her subtly muscled arm linked with his, gently enough that he knew he was still leading their merry group.

"Honeydukes," Draco answered for him, his smile huge as it beamed up at Ginny. "Harry promised to buy me lots of candy."

Ginny and Pansy both gave him  _the look_ , but he just smiled awkwardly. "It's not like I get to treat him very often…" Ginny raised an eyebrow while Pansy rolled her eyes, looking down at Draco, who was watching them and trying not to laugh.

"You're not eating it all at once," the darker-haired Slytherin said in a matter-of-fact tone, leaving no room for argument. Surprising Pansy, the blonde rolled his eyes. Harry wasn't quite that shocked – after all, this  _was_ still Draco, and Draco was above all things a smart ass.

"I'm not  _stupid_ , Pansy," he answered her and Harry got the pleasure of watching as she laughed, squeezing Draco's hand.

"I know you're not, love," Pansy replied with a grin. "I'm just  _emphasizing_. Harry's not going to limit you, so I have to make sure you'll use your good sense on this one so Harry here doesn't have to deal with a sick kid, yeah?" Draco looked up at Harry with an expression that made him laugh. His lower lip was stuck out in a pout, clearly displeased with Pansy's lack of faith in him.

"Harry will gladly take care of me no matter how sick I am," Draco announced at last, turning his pout on Pansy, who chuckled. Of all of them, the only one entirely unaffected by Draco's puppy dog eyes was her – which probably had something to do with the fact that she'd dealt with them for longer than Harry had known either of them.

"How about we go get your candy now and figure out limits later?" Ginny suggested, arching an eyebrow at them. "If we wait any longer I won't be able to watch Draco spend Harry's fortune in sweets."

At this, Harry cocked his head in confusion. Pansy, noticing the look, grinned evilly. "Dear me, Ginny. Did you not tell Harry about your  _date_?"

Harry perked up. "Date, Gin?"

The redhead paused to give Pansy a death glare, causing only her laughter, before sighing and giving Harry a weary glance. "Yes, I've got a date, and I'll trust you not to make fun of me for it. Merlin knows Ron will be furious when he finds out and the Gryffindor girls can't decide if they want to shun me or ask me if he's good in bed."

Harry's eyebrows shot to his hairline in an exaggerated imitation of Ginny's condescending look she'd perfected in the past year. "And who might this be? I mean, granted, Ron will be furious no matter who you date, but if the Gryffindor girls are shunning you…"

She looked away, giving the pavement under their feet an edgy glare. "It's a Slytherin."

"Gin, some of my best friends are Slytherins," Harry said skeptically. "Granted, my  _best_ friend is a rather tiny one, but…" Draco huffed at his side and nudged him too lightly to be a hip check but too hard to be accidental.

Ginny sighed again in defeat and Harry resisted the urge to smirk. "It's Blaise."

Surprise colored Harry's tone. "Zabini?" He scanned his brain for a face to match the name, nodding when it did. "He's an okay bloke, I suppose." Ginny examined his face for any hint of a lie and let out a small sound of relief. "Didn't know you fancied him, though. New information."

"He asked me out last weekend, but we've been keeping it rather hush," she explained under her breath as a couple Gryffindors passed, giving her unsure looks. "Of course, it being Hogwarts and all, everyone knows about it, but… we're kind of friends. You know?" Harry grinned, nodding.

"You don't have to explain yourself to me, Gin," he replied easily. "I trust your judgment. You're quite brilliant."

She gave him a hesitant smile. "Not quite as brilliant as 'Mione, but thanks." She huffed and rolled her eyes, hanging off of Harry's arm. "I don't know why I'm being weird about this. Sometimes I think you're a better big brother than Ron." She paused, then gave him a stern look. "Keep that to yourself, Potter. I don't want to deal with his whining."

Harry gave her an innocent look. "Why on earth would I tell Ron?" She punched him lightly on the arm and Draco reminded them of their destination. With a smile directed toward the blonde and a playful grin sent toward Ginny and Pansy, they set off again.

* * *

"I'm so  _full_."

Harry looked up from his Charms essay. He'd been hard at work writing it for the past several hours since now even Draco was harping on him to work and he hadn't been paying attention to whatever his friend was doing. The nine year old sat on the floor, his candy spread out around him. They were arranged in nice, neat little piles by brand, then by kind of sweet, and the piles were significantly smaller than they had been the day before.

It didn't surprise him that Draco looked positively green and wondered idly if this was why the Draco he knew wasn't very fond of sweets. "And what lesson have we learned?" Harry asked calmly, giving the blonde an arched eyebrow.

"This was your secret plan all along, wasn't it, Harry?" Draco asked sourly and the self-proclaimed babysitter who lived couldn't help but laugh, causing Draco's pout to become even more pronounced.

"Do you want to go down and ask Madam Pomfrey or Professor Reich for a potion to help your stomach?" Harry asked with an amused smile. He didn't expect Draco's sulky expression to turn to one of clear distaste.

"I don't want to see that git," Draco announced with a glare aimed at the floor. Harry knew that Draco didn't like Kristopher, but the obvious contempt in the boy's eyes surprised him.

"Why do you hate him so much, love? He's not the friendliest, but he's not so bad."

Draco's grey eyes met him, stormy and narrowed. "You only say that because he's willing to help you get your rocks off!"

Green eyes widened and Harry's face paled. Kristopher's infatuation with him was obvious, but that didn't explain Draco's very sudden use of such crude language, or even why he was so flippant about the idea of two men together. While accepted in the wizarding world, Harry knew for a fact that the Malfoy's had not been the most open individuals about homosexuality for the entirety of Draco's childhood, which had led to his sexuality crisis in fourth year after an abysmal attempt at a relationship with Pansy. Now that Draco was out, Lucius and Narcissa were much more accepting of the idea, but he couldn't imagine that Draco had thought it completely normal.

"Where did you hear that?" Harry asked him quietly, his voice sharp. Draco didn't back down at Harry's tone; merely deepened his frown

"Pansy said something about the professor wanting to." He paused, then added much more softly, "I saw you two at the party, you know. I don't remember it all that clearly, but I remember how angry I felt. Like he was taking you away from me." Draco shifted, looking very uncomfortable, and Harry let out a very long, deep sigh.

"Draco," Harry said, trying not to raise his voice lest this whole situation get out of hand. "Don't you ever say that again. Okay? Professor Reich could never take me away from you."

"Say you love me," Draco hedged, clearly growing more upset at each mention of Kristopher's name. "Harry –"

"I love you, Draco," he said fiercely. "No matter what happens between Kri - Professor Reich and I. You hear me? You are my heart and I love you more than I love anyone else." As true as that was, Harry couldn't help but wonder if it was normal for a nine year old to be so possessive, he thought as Draco's facial features relaxed.

Draco nodded and stood to walk over, immediately squirming into Harry's arms. "I believe you, Harry." Harry felt a pang of guilt as the memory of warm lips pressed against his.  _It's not lying and he doesn't need to know about that, anyway._ He wished he could convince the guilt away when Draco let out a happy sigh, tightening his grip, but he couldn't.

"I love you," he whispered against Draco's head, wondering just when that had happened. It was disorienting, realizing how much the blonde meant to him and in such little time.

"I love you, too, Harry," Draco answered calmly, and Harry pressed a kiss to his hair. That would do for now.


	8. The Kiss of Dawn

"Where the bleeding hell is it?"

Draco watched with a raised eyebrow from their dinner-and-homework table where he was reading a rather thick leather-bound book Hermione had suggested for him to read at Christmas. Of course, at seven years old he couldn't very well read it with full understanding, but at ten his vocabulary and focus were much better.

"Are you sure you didn't leave it in the bathroom, Harry?" he asked calmly, but his lips twitched upward in amusement.

Harry pulled his head out of his trunk long enough to shoot a half-hearted glare at his ward. "Why would I leave my wand in the bathroom, Draco?" he snapped, but Draco just rolled his eyes, taking no offense.

"I remember you using a shaving charm this morning, Harry," he said matter-of-factly. "Not that I approve. Father always says you should never trust a shaving charm when you have goblin-forged steel on hand." Harry gritted his teeth, having heard the argument more than once, but they both knew he wasn't really irritated.

"Well, I don't have goblin-forged steel on hand," he muttered as he passed, ignoring Draco's giggles, only to groan out loud when he saw his holly wand on the counter. "Thank you, Draco," he sighed loud enough for the blonde to hear, and got a chirped " _you're welcome!"_ in reply.

He came out with a pouty expression and his wand, which he slipped up his sleeve with a sticking charm so it wouldn't fall out when he wasn't holding onto it. Draco closed his book, standing and meeting him near the door with a charming smile. He'd started refusing to go with Dobby earlier that week, determined to get a head start on things he'd already learned. Harry allowed it without a fuss – Draco was a great help and he technically  _was_ a student, so his teachers couldn't really kick up a fuss about it.

"You know, the older you get, the more excited you get about besting me," he said dryly as he watched Draco make his way down the hallway cheerfully, heading to Transfiguration.

"You mentioned yesterday we weren't friends until this year," Draco said breezily, though Harry knew it still hurt him to know that. "So of course I liked to best you. Plus, you're awfully cute when you're mad, Harry. It makes me want to pinch your cheek and ruffle your hair." Draco stopped short for a moment, his eyes widening when he realized what he'd just said, and Harry laughed when his cheeks went scarlet, though he was sure he was blushing ever so slightly as well. "Let's pretend I never said that."

"Whatever you say, love," he teased, and Draco's blush darkened.

"Hello, Harry!" a group of fourth-year Hufflepuffs greeted them amiably as they passed. Harry gave them a grin, recognizing two and knowing they were only friendly. The fangirls had lost a bit of their fire now that Draco was almost eleven again, but they still watched him and obsessed over him. Most of the intense ones resented Draco, but over all, he was more popular with the population of the school than he had been at 18.

"Hello, Draco," Hannah Abbott said with a smile, giving him a wave. Unlike a lot of the girls, Hannah had been friends with Draco before the accident and even when he was younger, she'd never treated him like a child. He knew that Draco was fond of her, so it was no surprise when Draco gave the eighth year a wave in return and a smile.

Harry gave her a smile himself when she turned to him and she nodded at him with a friendly grin.

"Harry," Draco said idly as they walked to McGonagal's classroom, his pale hand finding Harry's. "Why do all those girls like you so much? Is it because you're the boy who lived and defeated You-Know-Who? Father said that You-Know-Who isn't really dead. Do they know that?"

Harry paused, unsure of how to answer that. He avoided talking about the war as much as he could, which meant that Draco knew next to nothing about his caretaker's role in it.

Draco watched him think and sighed. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to. Father doesn't talk to me about it much, either." But Harry could see that pout starting and sighed in return.

"I'll tell you about it," he answered finally. "Just not now," he added when Draco's eyes lit up. "After lessons, if you remind me. I suppose you should know what's going on."

"You mentioned it, a little bit, when you were explaining about what happened to Uncle Severus," Draco murmured, looking up at him with those unreadable grey eyes. The older he got, the sadder he seemed every time the name came up. Harry knew that they were close, but sometimes he underestimated it – silly thing, considering how much he missed Sirius.

"Yeah, I did," he agreed softly, squeezing Draco's hand lightly. "Like I said, your Uncle Severus was a hero. He had a bigger part in the war than I did."

"War?" Draco repeated, his grey eyes concerned for just a moment before he carefully put a mask in place. "You never said anything about a war, Harry. You mentioned battles, but never a war."

"Draco," Harry sighed. "I told you that there was a very bad man, right?"

Instead of responding in the affirmative or the negative, Draco just huffed and glared at him, yanking his hand away. "I'm ten now, Harry; you don't have to talk to me like I'm a child!" He set his lips in a hard line, and even though Harry knew his charge wouldn't remain angry with him for long, he still sighed and hurried to correct himself.

"You're right, love," Harry agreed calmly, trying not to chuckle when Draco gave him a suspicious look. "I'm sorry. Force of habit. What I meant to say was, you remember me telling you about the man I mentioned when I explained about Severus? Voldemort?"

"Yes, Harry," he replied, rolling his eyes. "I remember you telling me about You-Know-Who. I may not have known about him at all when I was little, but I do know about him now. My father wants me to follow him, you know. He's convinced You-Know-Who will come back to life. But that's impossible, isn't it?"

"It would be, Draco, but -" He glanced around them, then peered over the staircase. The hall of stairs was empty and he groaned. "We are so late."

"We could skip," Draco suggested. "We don't need school, right?"

"Who is this we?" Harry laughed, somewhat weakly. "I'm the one doing work." He paused. "I'm not actually sure how you're making up these few months, though. I suppose we'll figure that out later." He chuckled when the subject of school made the blonde groan unhappily.

"Yeah, Harry," Draco groused. "Laugh it up. I'm sure my grades are better than yours anyway. My NEWTS will blow yours out of the water." Harry chuckled, knowing he was right and accepting it without any bitterness.

"Probably," he agreed, smiling down at the sulking boy. "All except for DADA – but that's why I need to go to class, you see? Can't let you whip my arse  _too_ badly."

"Watch your mouth," Draco muttered fondly, rolling his eyes and taking Harry's hand again as they descended the stairs down to the floor his class was on. "You definitely need the schooling, I suppose. Maybe one day we can get you a private tutor, to teach you all the things you only played at to pass your exams!" Harry rolled his eyes, inspiring a smug grin from his ward of sorts.

"Mr. Potter. Mr. Malfoy."

They both looked up, Harry giving his head of house a sheepish grin and Draco avoiding her gaze, his cheeks pinking. "Sorry, Professor. We might've gotten a bit distracted on the way to class."

"Get into the classroom, Mr. Potter."

"I did try to hurry him up, Professor."

"Do not even, Mr. Malfoy."

Harry and Draco shared a grin as they slipped into the room, past McGonagal's stern gaze.

* * *

"I'm so exhausted," Draco complained as they clambered into their front room after dinner, tugging his shoes off and tossing them into his room for the time being. With any other child, Harry would have delivered an ultimatum that he had to put them away properly, but he knew Draco would do it himself and didn't bother.

"Because you did so much today," Harry teased, prompting Draco to give him a dirty look for his troubles. "And here I thought you enjoyed going to class with me!"

"Do not sass me, boy," Draco grumbled, so clearly quoting his father that Harry couldn't help but smile fondly and think to himself that Draco was probably the cutest kid in the world. "Your classes aren't that great." He paused. "I don't really understand most of it." He seemed displeased about that.

Harry just grinned at him, reaching out to ruffle his hair. "I didn't expect you to. You're only ten, you know." He, too, paused, then added, "You'll understand more in a couple days, I suspect. When you turn eleven."

Instead of being cheered up, Draco's frown deepened. "You don't look very excited about that, Harry. Anxious, if anything. Are you sure you really want me to grow up?" Draco's eyes were concerned. "I don't want to go back to disliking you, you know, like you're afraid I will. I can't quite picture it, though."

"No," Harry said, his smile dropping. "I can't imagine you'd be able to. You seem so different now than you were then." He managed a weak imitation of his smile from before. "A lot of things have changed."

Draco's expression was calculating. "I suppose a war would change things, wouldn't it?" Despite the phrasing, they both knew it wasn't a question. Harry ached to know how much of a grown-up this little boy seemed.

"I suppose you want that explanation now, don't you?" Neither of them bothered to play at being casual about it. Draco knew how much Harry didn't want to talk about it and became somber in return out of something Harry suspected was rather like respect.

"You did promise, after all."

Harry nodded, toeing his own shoes off and setting them by the door before crawling into bed. He patted the spot next to him softly, biting his lip when Draco seemed to hesitate before crawling in next to him, all long limbs and smooth, unblemished skin. This boy was no longer the scarred, marked man he'd known, nor was he the child that Harry was used to – and where did that leave him? In less than a week, he'd been Draco Malfoy again, insulting people he hardly knows to impress a boy he doesn't recognize. In less than a week, he would be the first-year Draco who had hated his guts.

"Harry?"

He smiled down at the blonde child half-curled in his lap. Despite being ten, Draco appeared to be as affection starved as he was at that age, and he cuddled him closer, kissing the top of his pale hair. "Just thinking of how to begin."

"Perhaps the beginning would be a suitable starting point."

"Cheeky brat," he huffed playfully and Draco gave him a small grin. "All right then, the beginning. You remember me telling you about Voldemort?" A nod. "Well… so he was sort of a right bastard who –"

" _Language_ , Harry –"

"- right git who decided to try and take over the world…"

Harry told the story of his life with as much honesty as he could muster telling a ten year old, attempting to make it has factual as possible – but he couldn't help but romanticize the story of his parents' love, at least a little bit, nor could he help choking up a bit when telling Draco about their murder.

He managed to stamp out all resentment or anger when telling about his childhood, but it didn't stop Draco's expression from going back and forth between anger and concern. It was almost amusing, that familiar play of expressions on his face. Any time the Dursleys had come up – and he'd always done his damndest to ensure that they did not – that flicker between emotions would make itself plain in Draco's grey eyes.

And then he was moving on to Hagrid, to Diagon Alley, to Hedwig – here, his eyes flickered to the cage sitting on top of his trunk at the foot of his bed, his voice catching for only a moment – and to Hogwarts. He was sure that Draco's first glance at the castle as a first year had been uneventful; he'd probably even visited beforehand, knowing that Lucius was on the school board. Still, Harry left nothing out of his amazement at the castle, sharing every bit of the  _magic_ he had felt when he'd stepped onto the grounds.

Draco's gaze had darkened when Harry mentioned their meeting in Madame Malkin's, and darkened further when he told of their second meeting as well, but Harry continued on, doing his best to leave out all the silly little fights that they'd experienced since those two instances. He told Draco all about his first impressions of their professors – earning an affronted look and a reluctant chuckle when he first mentioned their favorite dungeon bat – and how amazing it was for him to have his own four-poster and his own space, even if he had to share it with other boys.

"Well, it's different sharing your space with friends than sharing it with three people that hate you," Draco murmured. "But didn't you have a bed in the second bedroom?"

Harry shrugged with feigned disinterest. "I did, but it wasn't exactly mine, was it? It was also small and remarkably uncomfortable. My four-poster in Gryffindor tower was probably the closest thing to heaven I'd experienced at that point." He gave the boy a rueful smile. Draco just nods and gives Harry leave to continue.

Trolls, then Quirrel, then Dobby, then his brief time in the Slytherin Common room – all was explained as quickly as possible, though Draco made him stop and further explain his reasoning behind his being the heir of Slytherin and consequently, his trespassing into Slytherin territory. He couldn't appear to decide whether he wanted to glare at him disapprovingly or laugh, so Harry moved on to the Chamber of Secrets itself.

By the time Harry was talking about dragons and mermaids and just starting on the maze from the mess of his fourth year, he'd been getting into story mode, like this was some fairy tale he could tell to get him to go to sleep. It wasn't, though, and he was reminded of it quite painfully when he had to choke out  _"And Cedric…"_

Draco looked up at him, his expression carefully constructed to show none of his own horror, only concern visible. Harry smiled sadly, wondering what had happened to make this little boy so much more mature than him, even at ten. "I didn't know him very well," Harry murmured, stroking Draco's hair. "But he was a good bloke. We spoke a couple times and got on well. I think we would have been friends, had we both made it out."

"He was a very nice boy," Draco agreed quietly. "My father has always been friendly with Mr. Diggory, and we've played together a few times. He was older than me, but he was really fun."

"He didn't deserve to die so young," Harry said softly, then forced himself to finish his story. Fifth year, Umbridge, and the Department of Mysteries. Sirius, his subconscious whispered, but he glossed over the death as much as he could and went onward, to sixth year - horcruxes and his suspicions about Draco himself. He held the boy tightly as he told him about the _sectumsempra_  incident, stroking his hair when he felt him tremble. Then Dumbledore's death and onwards, to what would have been his seventh year. To the search for horcruxes, to the Fiendfyre, to the final battle –

Harry had to stop short, his mouth failing him for once in his live. Draco didn't push, but instead waiting with him in silence as he tallied the lives lost, the friends forever out of his reach. "Lavender," he murmured, and Draco twitched, biting his lower lip. "Colin, Crabbe, Remus, Tonks, Sirius…" He looked down. "Fred. Severus. Cedric. Even Hedwig. We'd lost so many people over the years, but it was funny how badly we hurt at the final battle. Like we felt all of the casualties of the battle itself and everyone beforehand, all at once."

Draco was pale; the trembling had not stopped. "Crabbe? Vince?"

Harry nodded, pressing another kiss to his forehead. "In the fiendfyre. He lit it, but he couldn't control it." Draco's head dropped and he could feel him shuddering – probably trying not to cry.

"How many people died at the Battle of Hogwarts, Harry?"

"Fifty," he sighed, the number pounding inside his head. He could see their faces, each one, even if he didn't know their names. "The castle was rebuilt as quickly as possible – but she helped with that. Not even Voldemort could destroy her permanently." He managed a weak smile when he felt the room warm just enough to be felt.

"I hate war," Draco murmured, and his voice was thick with tears. "I don't think I want to remember all of that, Harry." He'd given up his slightly stiff I'm-a-ten-year-old-you-don't-have-to-hold-me posture and was curled in a ball, pressed tightly against his protector. His best friend.

"You don't really have a choice, love," Harry replied quietly. "But just think about it this way – that's a lot of evil, Draco, that's out of this world for good. Your father and mother are free from his hold and the wizarding world isn't under his thumb anymore. It's over. We returned to Hogwarts to end things right, and when we leave, we'll go out into a brighter world. It doesn't excuse the death – but at least it wasn't in vain."

Draco just nodded and pressed his face into Harry's shirt. "I know it's early, but I think we should sleep, Harry. Can we please just sleep?"

Harry didn't think there was anything he could possibly do for him – in fact, the only thought in his head was ' _perhaps it was too much – shouldn't have told him everything…'_.

He nodded, swallowing despite his suddenly dry mouth. "Of course," he agreed gently. "Go get ready for bed, then." Draco nodded, pulling back. He hesitated for a moment, wiping the tears from his eyes, then leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Harry's cheek. Only, he missed, just slightly, kissing the edge of Harry's mouth. He smiled crookedly, pink creeping up his cheeks, and Harry smiled back, rubbing his arm before shooing him off to go brush his teeth and put on pajamas.

As they settled in for the night, Draco tucked safely in Harry's arms (and he'd promised he was going to try sleeping in his own room from now on, but Harry could forgive him to wanting to stay in Harry's bed for one more night), he heard a quiet little voice murmur "I love you" in his ear. He tightened his hold on the boy for a mere second before whispering "I love you, too" back.


	9. Resurrection

The night before Draco was to turn eleven, Harry spent most of his night laying in bed silently, chewing on his thumb nail and worrying. Draco had forced himself to start sleeping in his own bed the night before, and he found that not only was he terrified of how Draco would react to him when he, for all intents and purposes, re-met Harry Potter, but it was difficult enough just to try and sleep without the warmth of the small body in bed with him. He'd gotten spoiled, though he'd known it would pass, and now that he was alone and anxious, there really wasn't anything that could be done for him.

The hours passed slowly until he finally drifted off around three. He didn't sleep well – he hadn't been under the impression he would – and his forced good mood, already thin from the lack, was stretched even further when he registered the absolute silence in their chambers. It was possible that Draco was still asleep, but unlikely – he always woke around six thirty on school days, and no later than nine on weekends. Harry couldn't blame him for being hesitant to get out of bed.

Harry would have liked nothing more than to lie in bed all day, dreading the inevitable confrontation, because he had not dealt with Malfoy – not Draco, but Malfoy – for quite a while and he wasn't sure he was able to withstand his tongue any longer. Trading quips with Draco was different than sniping at Malfoy, and he found that he probably would not be able to throw insults at him the way he once would have.

But he got up, knowing he must, and with a grim expression got dressed, buttoning his white shirt and fastening his slacks. He was pulling on his robes, about to go and wake up his charge, when a blonde head poked out of the darkly colored door opposite his bed.

Draco's expression was hesitant, conflicting emotions Harry wasn't willing to name flickering across his face like flame. He steeled his jaw and hardened his eyes so his fear wouldn't show through, but Draco, instead of hollering at him, stepped into the room silently, his grey eyes examining Harry's face.

"You're a lot taller than I remember," he said at last, awkward and unsure of himself. Harry didn't move from his spot, but he nodded. When the blonde head ducked, Harry sighed and came forward slowly. If Draco was trying to hide his anger, he didn't want to get decked the second that he came within touching distance.

But he didn't get decked and came closer still until he was pulling him closer for a fierce hug. He hadn't expected Draco to cling back with a small sound from the back of his throat, but he did, and Harry just leaned down to press a gentle kiss to his blonde hair.

When Harry pulled back, Draco was blushing brightly, his hands immediately flying up to fix his hair. "I don't want to talk about it right now," he said immediately. "Can we please just talk about it later?"

"If you like," Harry agreed. "Would you still like to come to class with me?"

Stepping back, regaining his composure, Draco nodded, his expression showing very little of his anxiety. It showed only in his eyes - a true Malfoy. Harry smiled faintly and nodded toward the door. He leaned down, grabbing his bag from the top of his trunk. "You ready then? We might still make the end of breakfast."

"Good," the blonde answered, smirking finally though the expression seemed odd somehow. Harry never thought he'd see the day he'd be glad for a Malfoy smirk, but he was, and smiled back. "I'm starved!"

"Why am I not surprised?" Harry snorted but continued to grin, and laid a hand between Draco's shoulder blades, leading him to the door.

"Growing boy, Harry," Draco said breezily, pausing to pat him on the shoulder hesitantly. "I'm surprised you're not stuffing your face at every meal. You'd think with all the world saving you do you'd be either constantly starved or constantly knackered."

"Well, I am that," he chuckled. It was weird, have Draco himself again - albeit a much younger version. He had a feeling that now that he knew how to handle him, dealing with a first year Malfoy would be far easier second time around. "What about you and your constant growing? How are you not falling asleep every second?"

This, Draco seemed to ponder for a minute. "You know, I'm not sure. But still, I'm glad for it. Falling asleep in public is undignified." Harry rolled his eyes, shifting his bag from one shoulder to another.

"Draco!"

The blonde head glanced from Harry as they rounded the corner to the Great Hall to Pansy, who was quickly coming toward them. With a quick look around to make sure no one saw him, he allowed himself a huge grin and hurried forward to hug his best friend. Poking his head out of the hall, Blaise Zabini grinned and joined them. Harry thought it was silly, Draco showing his emotions only when he thought no one could see them. After the war, during fifth year and before the awful events of sixth year, he'd been much more open, laughing with his friends and being generally pleasant. He'd been a constant perplexity - a total prick one minute, a bright and social teenage boy the next. It was good to know that eventually Draco would realize that the secret of his being that normal, happy boy was a ridiculous secret to keep.

"Look at him, Harry!" Pansy was crowing, grinning from ear to ear, pinching Draco's steadily pinking cheeks. "He'd all big and blonde and -" She cut herself off with another crow and let go of Draco to hug Harry tightly, who laughed and squeezed back.

"All right, that's enough - Pansy, get off of him! You'll squeeze his stuffing out! Potter! Get her off of you!"

Both Pansy, looking stricken, and Harry, torn between amusement and confusion, looked back at the fuming Slytherin, Blaise standing behind him looking resigned. The darker haired Italian clapped a hand on Draco's shoulder and motioned Pansy over. Pouting dramatically, she went, but not without squeezing Harry's shoulder.

As the four of them headed inside toward the an empty end of the Ravenclaw table, neutral territory for both – Draco pressed tightly to Harry's side and sneering at the onlookers while sparing suspicious looks for Pansy – they spoke quietly though amiably.

"He's practically glued to your side," Blaise commented, his expression innocently curious. "I would have thought he would act… a little more like himself."

Of course, this earned him a stony glare and the Italian laughed, trying not to smirk down at his friend. "He's not exactly the same Draco as he was at eleven," Harry explained quietly, petting at Draco's pale hair, only to have the boy jerk his head away, scooting down away from him. Harry rolled his eyes, turning back to Blaise. "He knows his future, and our friendship hasn't just disappeared, even if he remembers our first meeting."

"You were a git," Draco muttered, prompting Harry to raise an eyebrow at him.

"So were you," Harry teased and caught the corners of Draco's mouth twitching up. "We've just grown up a bit. Sort of."

Blaise and Pansy both laughed at that, Pansy giving Harry a smirk, and Harry just rolled his eyes and continued to eat.

* * *

Draco managed to hold himself together until lunch, and Harry was impressed that he'd not cracked before. He could tell that the boy had been on pins and needles all day, occasional distractions aside, and he was so clearly bothered that he couldn't continue until they'd talked this mess through.

So he'd pulled Harry into an empty classroom, turned on him, and said quite clearly, those emotions warring in his eyes again, "I hate you."

The declaration had not been expected and Harry was taken off guard. He was sure the hurt could be seen in his eyes, confirmed when the slightest bit of guilt flashed across Draco's expression.

"You hate me," Harry repeated, feeling a little shocked and a little numb. He wasn't going to get overly emotional just yet – he would wait until he had the full story, as it may – but he was still reasonably taken aback. "Well. I think I should have seen that coming." He winced at the sound of his voice, staccato and a little cold.

"I do hate you," Draco swore, taking a step back from Harry. "But I don't, and it's complicated. I don't like this." His lower lip jutted out, red and swollen from being bitten. "I hate the Harry I knew, I hate Potter because he didn't want to be my friend –" Here, he cut himself off from embarrassment and blushed, but continued, "- but you're not him. You're not really him at all anymore. I'm confused and I don't know what I should feel about you."

"Is that really why you hated me so much?" Harry asked, going for an off-hand and sounding far too intensely curious instead. "Because I wouldn't be your friend?" Draco had always given him other reasons – you were too perfect, I was kind of jealous – but he'd always muttered that he'd been hurt and skipped over it quickly to avoid talking about it.

"I want – wanted - to be your friend," Draco muttered, his face still an alarming shade of pink. It was odd, with his pale skin and pale hair, to see him so red. "But I wasn't good enough for you, was I?" Draco spat, clearly trying to direct some of the attention away from his hurt.

Harry's face clouded and he came forward, trapping the paling boy against a desk. His arms bracketed Draco, who looked up at him with something akin to fear in his eyes. He knew that Harry would never hurt him, but he was intimidating, and he knew it. "That's not it, is it?" he said quietly, and Draco gulped. "That's not it at all. It's not because of that, not just that, at least. It's because you dreamed about it, didn't you?" Harry suddenly felt like a right prat for pulling this card – for pulling things Draco had told him at eighteen – but he didn't stop, even when Draco's face reddened again. "Being my friend. Going on adventures together, being the best friend of the boy-who-lived."

Draco put his hands on Harry's chest, trying to push him away. His palms were warm; Harry could feel the heat even through his jumper. "You're conceited. None of that is true," Draco snapped back shakily, clearly not believing his words.

"But it is." Harry's voice dropped lower, almost a growl. "And it wasn't even just the boy-who-lived you wanted to be friends with. Sure, it started with being the best friend of the hero, but the more you thought about it, the more real he became to you. He became an idol, almost a fantasy, didn't he? You wanted to be real  _best friends_ , who tell each other everything and rely on each other for all their problems. I became your imaginary friend, didn't I, Draco?"

Draco's face, which was pink before, turned a flaming shade of red and for a second, to his horror and self-disgust, Harry was sure he could see wetness in Draco's eyes.

"You're an absolute  _git_ , Harry Potter," Draco said, his voice breaking on the last word.

Harry backed up silently, watching Draco suck his lower lip into his mouth to nip at it. Those grey eyes were glaring at him like he'd betrayed him and in a way, Harry supposed that he had.

"I won't apologise for snapping at you, but I am sorry for using that against you," Harry said quietly. "It was below the belt."

"I assume I've told you about it before. About my childhood... daydreams." Draco sounded incredibly uncomfortable.

Harry nodded. He was a little relieved Draco was being more mature about this than he probably would have been in their first year.

"Then yes, that was below the belt," Draco agreed. His lower lip trembled and Harry felt a pang of guilt hit him. It was completely still between them for a minute, each regarding the other silently. "Are we really friends, Harry, or did you lie to me? I can't picture a friendship ever working out between us." Harry caught sight of that wetness in his eyes again, but before a single tear fell, Draco rubbed angrily at his eyes.

Harry stepped forward, but Draco scooted away. Determined, Harry moved faster than Draco and pinned him again before sitting him down at a desk and kneeling next to him. "Draco, you are my best friend. Do you understand that?"

"I am not a baby anymore, Harry," Draco bit out and Harry sighed.

"I know that, Draco. But you're upset and I'm actively trying not to upset you further," he explained quietly. Draco managed a half-hearted roll of the eyes. "But you are. I've explained how we became friends to you, and you know that for the majority of the time we knew each other, we pretty much hated one another. We're friends now, though, and haven't I proved that I care about you?"

"Right, that's why you're using things said in confidence against me!" Draco argued, but his voice was weak, like he didn't believe it himself.

"I already apologised," Harry replied patiently, though his eyes betrayed the intensity of his emotion. "Draco, if you get vicious, I'll get vicious back, you know that. I'm not perfect and -"

"If you say 'everyone makes mistakes,' I will cause you enormous amounts of pain."

Harry managed to crack a smile. "I do love you, Draco. You are my closest friend and I care about you so much. For me, my friends are my family."

"That's awkward," Draco muttered, and Harry vaguely wondered how it was possible for someone to blush so much.

"Ah," Harry sighed with a smile smile. "But you love me, too. I know you do. Despite our past, we are friends. Closer than friends. Practically brothers." Draco wrinkled his nose at this, but Harry saw a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Okay?"

"Whatever," he responded in a slightly hoarse sounding voice.

"Hug me?"

For a minute, Harry was a little apprehensive that Draco would pull his new-found self-consciousness around him like a blanket and refuse. "You're so strange, Harry," Draco snorted, but he flung his arms around Harry's neck and betrayed his eagerness. Harry hugged him back tightly, smiling when he felt Draco squeeze. "This weird," a muffled voice said into his shoulder and the eighteen year old laughed. "Good weird, I guess, but still... I have half my head telling me you're my friend Harry that's been there for me these past couple months, and one telling me you're a prick."

"Watch your mouth," Harry chuckled, letting the blonde pull away. Draco have him a sheepish grin, and if his eyes looked a little red, then Harry didn't say anything.

* * *

"You know, you're kind of a prick, Harry," Pansy was saying a couple days later, nonchalant from her place sprawled across his bed. In the past several days, Draco had developed an aversion to Harry and Pansy spending time together, so they took to doing it when Draco had taken Harry's broom - as his children's broom was a tad too small for him now - to fly in circles round the Quidditch pitch.

"It's been said," Harry grunted. "You've been talking to Draco." It wasn't a question. He'd known that Draco had likely been complaining to Pansy plenty in the past couple days as they'd fought several times. They had yet to hit a huge snag, but it was still frustrating. Normally, Draco was very slow to anger at Harry, but with his first year of Hogwarts memories intact, it seemed as if anger was bubbling beneath the surface no matter what he did.

"Yeah," she agreed without fanfare. "It's almost cute, really. It's been quite a while since I last heard him complain about you so much."

She smiled as if she was privy to some secret she wasn't going to even consider telling Harry. "He's pretty angry at you." Pansy sounds almost conversational, but her eyes are sparkling. Harry would be shocked that she was actually enjoying this – if it weren't  _Pansy_. "For one thing or another."

"He's mad at himself," Harry grunted in reply. Pansy snorted at him, rolling her dark eyes, and sat up, running a hand through her short, dark hair. She really was quite pretty, once you got past the pug comparison, and she was affectionate to those she was close to. Harry never would have guessed that he would be on that list, but here he was.

"He still loves you."

Harry rolled his eyes. "I know that, Pans, thanks. He's just confused and uncomfortable and torn between hating Harry Potter and being friends with Harry."

"If it helps, I've never had that problem," Pansy said sweetly and he laughed at her. Were she in range, he would have ruffled her hair. "Really, though, I'd give it time. His crush on you will come back soon enough." Harry chuckled, but Pansy didn't, examining his expression with a raised eyebrow.

"Come off it," he said when her glittering eyes had drilled a hole through him. "Don't let him hear that; he won't go near me for a week." By then, he'd probably have a whole new set of reasons to be angry at him anyway, so Harry wondered if it would matter.

"Just sharing the truth," Pansy told him breezily. Just a little truth fairy, spreading honesty and goodness…"

"You look nothing like a fairy," Harry teased. "If you want, we could dye your skin a different color and transfigure you wings – if you're into that, of course."

"And you think I'm a brat," Pansy laughed, getting up to come over and put him in a head lock.

Of course, it was then that Draco walked in to find Harry laughing, clutching at the arm locked around his neck, trying to pry her away and ending up leaning over with her draped over his back. Pansy immediately gave up the fight, pulling back with a cheery wave in Draco's direction, but the blonde was already fuming. Really, Harry thought with an exasperated sigh. In spite of his constant irritation at Harry, he was still so territorial!

"I was just leaving," Pansy said with an exaggerated defensive gesture, but not before she leaned down to plant a kiss on Harry's cheek, almost at the corner of his mouth, just to see Draco's face burn a brighter shade of angry red.

After Pansy sashayed out of the room, Draco turned his glare on Harry. "She's going to give you cooties," Draco said shortly before marching into his room, and Harry ended the night with a last drop of ink on his Charms essay and a roll of the eyes.


	10. Under the Rose

Twelve year old Draco wasn't much better than eleven year old Draco and the loss of his companion hurt. It wasn't like Draco had gone anywhere, but the half-hesitant hugs and wary glances from the eleven year old had shifted at age twelve into outright avoidance and reluctance to even touch. Harry kind of missed his clingy little blonde, who had begun to grow up right under his nose.

Harry released a sigh, scribbling one last line on his written exam for Potions. They would have a potion to brew the next day, something fancy and absolutely ridiculous that Harry was almost certain to fail because his Draco - eighteen year old Draco - wasn't there to partner with and help him. He sighed again, miserably, as he stood to turn his parchment in, rolling it as he walked.

Kristopher - it was just too awkward to continue under the pretense of teacher and student - was standing at a podium, his eyes trained on someone else's parchment. When Harry approached, Kristopher glanced up to give him a small, sad smile, and Harry faltered, biting his lip. He hadn't so much as spoken to the man since the incident a couple weeks previous and avoided his eyes as he handed his parchment to him. Something in his posture or expression must have set his professor off, because Kristopher reached forward, laying his hand on Harry's shoulder.

"What?" Harry whispered, attempting not to draw anyone else's attention - especially Draco's, reading in the back of the room, who for all of his distancing himself still had something against Reich.

Kristopher brushed a blonde curl from his forehead. "Do you think we could talk after class?"

Harry bristled immediately. "If this is more of the same as before, Kristopher-!" He barely noticed he'd let the man's first name slip as the man in question was already replying.

"No, it's not. You've looked a bit off this past week and a half. I just wanted to talk for a moment." Harry would have refused, but - Pansy was getting sort of fed up with his whining, wasn't she? And he could tell that Kristopher's concern was real. Why should he refuse? "Harry – Mr. Potter. Please."

He paused, examining Reich's earnest expression. "Er... yeah, sure." He met Kristopher's blue eyes. "All right." Kristopher spared him a smile and he returned it hesitantly before returning to his seat.

"What was up with  _that_?" Neville asked when he took his seat. Pansy, avoiding Draco's wrath in the middle of class for being too near to his caretaker, had elected to sit with Blaise on the Slytherin side of the room, shooting Kristopher glares and Harry frustrated looks.

"With what?" he replied innocently, trying not to get irritated with his friend for the incredulous glances he kept giving Kristopher, who continued to grade obliviously.

"The heart eyes Reich was giving you," Neville replied, sounding like he didn't believe himself. "I heard he had a crush on you - Ginny laughs about it enough, about how he stopped his casual flirting... but I didn't really believe it, not till now. I think he really fancies you! What is going on?"

Harry opened his mouth to reply, but Kristopher's voice was ringing out, "There are people still writing! Silence!" Behind the desk, in his portrait, Severus raised his eyes from the parchment he was reading, an eyebrow shooting toward his hairline. Even Harry got the impression that Kristopher was chanelling his predecessor. He couldn't help thinking it was kind of cute.

"We're talking about this later," Neville hissed, sounding unlike himself in his worry and incredulity. Harry sighed, wishing that everyone would stop making such a big deal out of it but being unwilling to make a deal out of it himself.

At the end of the class, Harry ignored Neville's stern looks and gathered his things. He felt bad for avoiding Draco's eyes, but ruffled his hair, albeit with a wince. "Draco."

"Harry," Draco replied with a raised eyebrow so akin to his godfather's that it made Harry sad in a strange way.

"I need you to go with Neville and Pansy to dinner," he said gently, and Draco's jaw dropped. "I need to speak with Kristopher."

"Kristopher!" Neville repeated, his expression scandalized. Harry winced as he heard Pansy echo the Gryffindor. "He's Kristopher now! Harry, you seriously need to explain this because I'm about going stir crazy not knowing what's going on!"

"Harry-" Pansy growled, but Harry held up a hand.

"Just take Draco to dinner," he said sharply, and Pansy looked about ready to smack him, but Draco was already snarling in an altogether too familiar way.

"I can take myself to dinner, thanks," the blonde snapped. Harry hated the accusation and betrayal in his expressive grey eyes. "I'm twelve, not five!" Draco rushed from the room angrily, huffing what Harry was sure to be obscenities under his breath. He sighed.

"Go after him. We'll talk later." When Neville opened his mouth, Harry added, "All of us." The mouth closed, but his eyes were still demanding explanation. The minute he and the clearly furious Slytherin eighth year left the room, he released another sigh.

"I don't mean to drive a wedge between you and your friends." Kristopher's voice was soft. Harry briefly wondered if this was the same man who had been pursuing him so openly – but then, after the party, that had stopped, hadn't it? Almost like he was ashamed of himself.

"I know you don't," he responded as gently as he could, turning back with a strained half smile. He left his bag on the desk, making his way up the aisle, toward the man standing with his blue eyes and gentle golden curls. Harry sort of wished they were a paler blonde. "Things are pretty tough all around."

"Is it my fault?"

"Is what your fault?" Harry asked, cocking his head to the side in confusion. Kristopher's smile was faint.

"The reason for that look on your face," he replied, nodding toward the eighteen year old. "You've looked so exhausted recently, like things haven't been going well at all."

Harry managed another half-smile in reply. It was a weak attempt. "No. I wouldn't say it's your fault. It's just that Draco's been rather..." He shrugged. "He's having a hard time separating Harry Potter, his school rival, and Harry, his friend."

"I would imagine that's not fun." He paused. "I apologise, for what trouble I've caused. I know this all has been hard, and I know I haven't helped at all." He looked down, not meeting Harry's eyes. "I was wrong to do what I did to you." They both knew what he was talking about. "So wrong. I can't make up for it."

Harry looked up, noticing how close Kristopher was, but considering what the man was saying, he got the impression that the man wasn't doing it on purpose. "It's fine, I've told you." Taking a chance, he patted the hand resting on the desk he was leaning against, where Kristopher had joined him. "You're a good man, even if the others don't see it." For some reason, after everything, he actually believed it.

They were meant to be talking, not meant to be doing anything more, but Kristopher was just the slightest bit closer, and Harry couldn't bring himself to pull away. "You're too forgiving. I'm afraid I have to disappoint you. A good man wouldn't want you the way I do." His voice was quiet. Harry could hear the shame - clearly, Kristopher had been thinking about this a lot - and swallowed. "I've acted impulsively, inappropriately. Even if you say it's okay…" He seemed to give up on the formal exterior, sagging visibly. "It's not; I know it's not, but I've wanted you so much. Self-control isn't something I have in abundance, and you've tested it spectacularly."

Then it was out there, the admission clear. He'd thought it had been before, at Kristopher's party, but now, with those blue eyes meeting his so earnestly, he realised that it hadn't, not really. "Other than that, then. Tiny detail. Doesn't mean you're not a good man." He sounded hoarse.

"Yeah," Kristopher agreed with a soft, hesitant laugh. "Other than that." It was quiet, and dark and Harry couldn't help but lean in just a bit, feeling starved for comfort. And why couldn't Kristopher be the one to offer it? In the past several weeks, he'd slowly warmed up to him after the man had put distance between them, clearly recognising the line and making sure Harry knew he had. "I haven't drunk at all this time." Harry's eyes widened. That explained the difference between Kristopher and the man who had practically assulted him at the party. He felt badly for judging him, not realixing he'd been not quite himself.

"Is that so." Harry wished it was more of a question.

When soft lips met his, he sighed - not quite happily, but maybe in a release of tension. Merlin, Kristopher was so  _warm_! His body, slowly pressing ever closer, was fit and heated and Harry would be lying if he said he didn't want him.

It didn't matter, though, because it appeared that he had him whether he wanted him or not. Kristopher was a good kisser and held Harry and he was strong enough to lift Harry by the thighs and sit him on the desk. Harry was a switch and had no problem submitting now, for the most part, and definitely not with Kristopher, who was broader and taller with more impressive muscles in spite of his pretty curls and lovely features. He hooked a leg around a trim waist, reaching a hand up to lay it flat on the side of Kristopher's face, the other gripping a bicep. Their groins pressed close together, moving sinuously, Harry's cheeks flushing. He shouldn't be doing this, he knew that, but it had been so  _long_  - his hand slid into blond curls and found a light strand, paler than the rest.

He froze when his mind supplied an image of Draco, smirking in that amused way of his, a sparkle in his grey eyes. He turned to ice when he realised that the image had done nothing to soften his erection.

_Fuck._

Kristopher paused when Harry went still, his face adorably confused and worried when Harry pulled away. The worry in his expression grew when he saw how pale the eighteen-year-old had become.

"I can't," he choked. "I'm sorry, but I can't!"

Kristopher nodded understandingly, but his expression was still disappointed. The fire had not quite left his eyes. "Is this about Mr. Malfoy?" Harry hated in that moment how perceptive he was.

"A bit, yeah." At the raised eyebrow he got, he flushed and ammended, "Mostly."

Kristopher pulled away, sighing. "I knew from the beginning that this would end like this, if it even started."

Harry scooted back, looking at him with an incredulity similar to Neville's. "What do you mean by that?" Kristopher's hands came up to his shoulders, rubbing soothingly.

"Calm down," he murmured, smiling a little impishly. "Only that you and Mr. Malfoy have this intensity to rival that of a thousand suns, so I'm not exactly surprised. I'd kind of hoped I could rival it, but it seems that it's not meant to be."

"Except that he won't talk to me," Harry muttered, then flushed at the look Kristopher gave him. "I'm not saying there's anything between us - there's not; he's a kid! But still."

"So are you," Kristopher said gently. "I don't think I've acknowledged that as much as I should have. You defeated He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and you're raising a boy, but you're still a kid."

"I resent that." After a moment's silence, they both laughed. "Thank you. For being so understanding."

"I don't know why you're thanking me," he said with a crooked grin. "I'm the dirty old man here."

Harry laughed. "You're hardly thirty; shut up!" Kristopher rolled his eyes, but his expression was warm.

"You're always welcome here, Harry," he murmured, leaning in to give him one last kiss. "I suggest you go find your young ward. He seemed upset earlier."

"Rightously pissed off, I think you mean," they heard, both jumping about a foot in the air. They and evidently forgotten about Severus, sitting in his portrait and looking distinctly unamused. Harry's face went red again, and he stood, going to grab his bag.

"I'll see you later, Kristopher - Professor Snape-" As he ran out of the room, face burning in embarrassment, he was sure he'd heard Severus saying something about Kristopher being a filthy pervert indeed and couldn't help but let out a startled chuckle. He would never live this down, he was sure of it.

* * *

He made the last bit of dinner and sat down next to Draco, who scooted away with his things, continuing to work on something on a piece of parchment, completely ignoring Harry. The brunette thought that it might be for the best, at least for now - he still had the mental image of his Draco in his mind and felt like a 'filthy pervert' himself.

"So explain," Pansy said frankly, wiping her hands on a napkin and giving him a flat look.

Harry shifted, his gaze flickering to Draco, then back to Pansy. "What is there to explain?"

"What's going on between you and creeper professor, maybe?" she elaborated with a raised eyebrow. "I'm not one to judge on creepiness; we all know that, but really, a student? There's clearly something off with him –"

"Shut up, Pansy," he snapped, feeling a hot flush come up his cheeks. "There's nothing off with him; he's fine. And for your information, whatever was going on is over now."

"Really," Neville said quietly. Luna, resting her head against his shoulder, was for once completely silent. "Is that why your lips are swollen? Because it's over?"

Draco's head snapped to face Harry, eyes wide.

"I told you it's over," he said, his voice tight. "We talked, and he promised to stop. So you can drop it now."

"What, he promised to stop after you had a snog?" Pansy sneered, an unattractive flush blooming on her cheeks in anger.

"You're going too far, Pansy," Blaise said softly, who sat on the other side of Ginny, perched next to Harry. "Calm down and let the boy explain."

"I did explain," he said as calmly as he could manage, but he didn't think that his point was getting across. "But you're not listening, are you?  _It's taken care of_. You can stop sending him crazy glares in the middle of class and planning his death every time we speak. He was interested, it was a bit creepy, and he knows that. It's  _over_. So can we please just finish eating dinner so I can go sleep?"

It was quiet for a few moments, other than the sound of Draco gathering his things, standing, and storming off again.

Malfoy always did have a flare for the dramatics. Just thinking it made his chest ache like he didn't have enough air.

"I don't know how you can let it go," Pansy said quietly. Her expression was conflicted. "I mean, I seriously thought he would  _rape_ your or something, and you're just over it? I mean, how can you just forget about that?"

"Because he's not that bad of a person and I have better things to worry about! So what if he was overly flirty. He realizes he crossed a line, and the problem's solved. What I should be focusing on is Draco, isn't it?" He huffed at her, knowing he was right and challenging her to do something about it. Instead of the expected response, however, Pansy seemed to swell up in what wasn't quite anger. Something sparked in her eyes.

"Oh, yes,  _Draco_. Merlin forbid you think about yourself for once, or someone else! Everyone else in the sodding world is falling at your feet and you only have eyes for him! I love him to bits, but this is ridiculous!" She took a great shuddering breath, her eyes blazing. "It's not just Reich, you know! Half the school would do anything to have you, Draco included! God knows I would –"

Harry's eyes widened, shock clear in his expression. Pansy immediately crumpled, biting her lower lip hard enough to make it go white. "Pansy –"

"It's fine," she interrupted through gritted teeth, standing. "It's fine. I knew I wouldn't ever –" She closed her eyes, breathing deeply for a minute. "We'll talk later. Lots of talking, about everything. But right now I just need to go. Sorry for snapping at you." With that, she moved, body stiff and muscles tense, from the room, her shoes clacking in the silence.

Harry looked around, grimacing when he realized that almost the entire Great Hall had their eyes on him. "I'll see you guys tomorrow," he muttered, quickly leaving as well.

* * *

When he stepped into their room, trying to ignore the judging glare Nigen was giving him as he hissed the password, he was immediately disappointed. Well, he would have been if he'd been _expecting_ Draco to stay up to rant at him, but no, of course he hadn't. If he was being honest, he had thought that at the very least Draco would have been waiting around a corner to hex him with his newly returned wand, but he didn't get even that.

What he hadn't expected that he  _did_ find, however, was the remains of a chocolate colored teddy bear on the floor, stuffing littering the rug-covered stone. He leaned down near the foot of the bed, hand reaching out to stroke the soft fur of the detached head. He felt his throat tighten, but elected not to do anything about it.

He went to bed feeling strangely defeated and not quite warm enough without a smaller body there with him. He decided not to dwell on it and fell into an uneasy sleep.


	11. Like St. Valentine

Harry knew perfectly well that he should have been asleep – it was four in the morning, after all, but he'd been sitting on the love seat in front of the fire, staring at a chocolate bear sitting on an armchair next to the fireplace with a morose expression, for damn near seven hours and no closer to solving his emotional turmoil. He'd woken up the night after the big explosion to find the teddy bear, clearly having undergone a  _reparo_ earlier that morning, sitting at the end of his bed. Draco had already been gone and hadn't spoken a word to him since, but Harry was still unsure as to whether the bear was a sign of an apology or a truce.

Pansy slept while he stared, both sitting on the small couch in front of their fire, her head on Harry's lap. He stroked her hair lazily, his heart heavy. They had sorted things, yeah, but he could still tell Pansy was hurt in spite of how well she hid it. There was a furrow between her eyebrows that Harry didn't like but couldn't do anything about. And what a night to have that conversation - the night Draco turned thirteen (and it was almost funny how he said it like he'd had a birthday instead of part of the consequence of Harry's mistake)!

He didn't hear Draco come up behind him but suddenly he was leaning against the armchair the bear sat in. "You think she'll be all right? I could hear her crying earlier." There was no discernable bitterness in his eyes that had been present before.

"You must have been listening in then, because Pansy is very good at hiding her tears. I could barely tell they were there." Harry's voice was quiet.

"Her voice has a very specific quality when she cries. I should know. She's been my closest friend since we were children, after all," Draco replied, kneeling in front of the couch and touching her cheek lightly. His long, pale blonde hair, falling over his shoulder, covered his face. His limbs were even ganglier, thin and slightly muscled. He hadn't taken up his constant Quidditch yet and the muscles and broader shoulders Harry had been used to before weren't there, not yet.

"She'll be fine," Harry replied finally. "It wouldn't have worked out regardless, but it was awful seeing her hurt like that. Pansy's strong, though. She won't let it get to her in the long run."

"I've known for a while she liked you," Draco murmured, shrugging. "I think everyone did. I know Longbottom and Luna knew for sure. Weasley might have." He paused, then looked up. Grey eyes framed by golden lashes met green. "I'm sorry. For being a prick and all."

Harry was pretty sure he hadn't seen that coming. "What?" He sounded incredibly stupid.

Draco huffed at him, leaning back on his heels. "I know you heard me. I won't say it again." But he was blushing slightly, looking unsure of himself, and he remembered how awkward Draco was at that age just from this small glimpse of him like that again. Always teasing, always trying to become the best. Trying to be confident and instead being arrogant. He hadn't had things sorted at thirteen. That reminder almost made him worry about the upcoming week, because as he recalled, "not having things sorted" had turned into being an outright mess. Fourth year hadn't been a good year for Draco - always flushing, constantly taunting like he was trying to prove himself.

"It's fine," Harry replied quietly, and gave Draco a small smile. He knew everything wasn't all right, and wouldn't for a little while longer, but Draco smiled at him hesitantly. Harry, fully expecting the cold shoulder to last for another couple weeks, smiled and tried to hide his surprise. The grin was faint, but there. He wasn't stupid enough to think that it was entirely over, but he wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth. He needed Draco, and Draco knew it.

"You need to go to bed, Harry," Draco said after a couple moment's pause. "Pansy will be fine sleeping by herself on the couch."

"I don't want to just leave her here," Harry began to protest, but Draco was already moving her and pulling Harry up. He led the quiet brunette to the bed and laid him down, awkwardly crawling in next to him.

"Sleep, Harry."

Draco wasn't pressed up against him like he would have been once, but it was enough and Harry didn't push, just laid there watching Draco for a little while, running over the curve of his cheeks and his angular jaw and blonde hair with his eyes, hoping Draco couldn't tell.

* * *

"He's a twat, that's what," Draco was saying as Harry came up to his friends at lunch, and of course the first thing he does is pause and cock his head to the side because  _what_?

"Are we talking about Voldemort?" Harry asked and it was probably too soon to be cracking jokes, but they all laughed anyway and he relaxed, reaching forward for a roll.

Draco looked up at him with a shiver, glaring at him for the use of the name. He managed a huffy snort, scooting over to make room, and for a minute he wondered if this was what it would have been like had they been friends before the war, all subtle cuddles and hidden laughter in class. "No, some second year that just tried to start a fight with Blaise." Grey eyes rolled toward the magicked ceiling. With a glance down the Ravenclaw table, Harry quickly spotted the cowering boy and tried not to smile when Draco leaned in to give the boy a threateningly sweet smile.

"Stop picking on him," Harry chuckled, taking his seat. "Don't be a bully." Draco opened his mouth to argue, but Harry pressed a fond kiss to his temple, prompting a raised eyebrow from Blaise and a very quiet Pansy looking away. Draco's face turned pink and he turned his half-hearted grumbling to his food, finishing off the sandwich he was eating.

"That kid was being a brat, though," Ginny added with a shrug. Harry hadn't even noticed she was there. "Draco had every right to be a little twat to that little twat."

The pink on Draco's cheeks spread. "I don't need your brand of help, Weaslette," he muttered without any hostility. "You insult me more than stuck up for me."

"Of course I do," Ginny said teasingly with a shit-eating grin, leaning over to attempt to pinch his cheek. Harry had gotten used to the return of Draco's spiteful nickname, but it was still strange to see Ginny laughing about it. "But it's out of love, yeah?"

Harry was in the process of buttering himself some toast when Draco pressed into his side, grumbling in Ginny's general direction, watching as the redhead laughed. "Harry, she's your ex-girlfriend, deal with her," Draco grunted at him, pressed into his shoulder, and Harry couldn't help snickering along with Ginny and Blaise. Pansy had a smile – small though it was – growing in amusement, and hid it with her hand, feigning a cough.

Harry was glad that Pansy was smiling. After the night before, he'd been quite worried - and quite disgusted with himself for being such a clueless bastard, to speak truthfully. Well, those had been Pansy's words, to be even more honest, but he gladly took the insult as opposed to the self-deprecating comments he'd been getting out of her previously. He nearly winced at the thought; that had been the worst.

_"I know it's ridiculously stupid -"_

_"I never expected anything to come of it; I know I'm not -"_

_" - someone like me -"_

As if he didn't feel badly enough for not realizing Pansy's admittedly obvious feelings for him, but it was ten times worse hearing her speak as if she wasn't  _good_ enough for him. The truth was - pardoning the kiss with Kristopher, who had been pretty decent as of late, to the point that even Pansy couldn't fault him - he was too preoccupied with Draco and that whole situation to even think about a relationship with anyone. He hadn't expected the wince that had come with his admission of that fact, nor had he been expecting Pansy's refusal to say anything on the subject, but he'd gone with it easily enough. He had no right to expect answers out of her; he was lucky she was even speaking to him, after all.

She had said one thing, though, that Harry was a little unsure of admitting to himself. He'd been thinking about it after she'd gone to sleep the night before - or rather, that morning.  _"It's just - it's always Draco, yeah? It was even kind of annoying before the war and everything, because everyone wanted your attention. Crabbe, Goyle and Blaise - hell, and me! We all tried picking fights, but you've only ever had eyes for Draco. It's not like it was one-sided, either - Draco was the same way about you, though he managed an insult or two for Granger and Weasel-"_ He'd had to stifle a snicker when she didn't even attempt to correct herself on the nickname.  _"- but it was you he put effort into insulting. It was a constant effort to keep your eyes on him. He never wanted your attention to stray."_

Harry frowned at the memory, coming back to reality to find Draco looking up at him with a raised eyebrow. "Did I miss something?"

Ginny barked a laugh. "Yeah, putting me in my place. You wanna go, Potter?"

Harry rolled his eyes, picking up another roll just to toss it at her head. Even Draco laughed when the roll smacked into the side of her head, making her huff at him. "Does that count?" he asked her cheekily, chuckling when she tossed the roll back. He set it next to his place, watching in interest as it disappeared, as he knew it would.

"I can't believe you're still fascinated with things like that," Draco snorted, teasing him good-naturedly. It seemed like the tension between them had finally dissipated, leaving the friendly banter Harry was used to. Honestly, it was a great change.

"Not all of us grew up in the epitome of magical households," he teased back and Draco just chuckled, bumping shoulders with him. "So, tell me - why was the kid trying to start a fight with Blaise?"

Draco was eager to tell the story and did with a wide grin – and an evil expression aimed toward the kid in question. "It might have something to do with Blaise being an asshole while turning his older sister down - "

"She wouldn't take no for an answer," Blaise ground out, but his dark skin was looking a tad darker over his cheeks. "It was just that I already had a date for the Valentine's thing McGonagal's doing –"

"Wait," Harry interrupted, looking a little taken aback. He chose not to comment on the smug smile on Ginny's face. "What Valentine's thing?" Blaise looked up at him in surprise before a grin turned the corners of his lips upward.

"Let me guess – you forgot Valentine's was coming up?" Harry refused to answer, but his silence was reply enough and Blaise laughed. "McGonagall wants to do something – not a dance, but a get together in the Great Hall, with music and stuff. I'm expected aphrodisiacs galore and kissing charms everywhere, but it should be fun, so I'm definitely in."

"You'd think they'd learn to be more careful about these things," Pansy chimed in, perking up a bit. Harry noticed, however, that she was avoiding looking at Harry. He didn't blame her. "I mean, crazy stuff always happens on Valentine's. I mean – remember second year?" She continued on that vein with Blaise for a while and Harry listened, paying the barest amount of attention to show that he wasn't outright ignoring them.

In truth, though, he was a tad worried. Valentine's was usually pretty damn crazy, and he wasn't really up to it.

Draco pulled him out of his thoughts, nudging him in the shoulder with a questioning expression. Giving him a small smile, he shook his head, and finished eating. After all – he really didn't want to be late to Transfiguration.

* * *

"I don't understand what the hell is going on here," Draco grumbled at Harry's side, helping him brew another practice potion - or trying to, at least. The truth was, this Draco was a third year and yes, he was fantastic as potions as always, but the work Harry was doing was definitely seventh-year level, and the majority of it was far more complicated than Harry was used to.

"I wish you did," Harry grumbled as he half-arsedly chopped up a couple holly leaves. Draco was wincing at his technique, but Harry was going to fail this anyway, so doing parts of it right made no difference in the end, really - who cared if he created a deadly poison or an even deadlier poison? He was going to fail either way. "The minute you're back to eighteen, I swear to Merlin, you're helping me with the extra credit I'm going to beg Kristopher for so I don't fail this class."

Draco was rolling his eyes, but his jaw tensed when he mentioned Kristopher. "You won't fail," he told him instead of complaining about his use of Reich's first name. "You're not that bad, Harry. I suppose I've managed to teach you something because you're certainly better than you were in my memories." The pride in his voice was almost adorable, and Harry had to fight to not say that out loud. As it was, he did chuckle and ruffle Draco's hair, laughing louder as he turned pink and batted Harry's hands away.

"How are you two doing?" Harry heard, and smiled up at Kristopher, who managed a private, warm smile for Harry and a polite, far more professional one for Draco.

"Haven't blown anything up yet," Harry said cheerfully, grinning when even Draco snorted in spite of his irritation at Kristopher's presence. "Draco here is probably the only reason for that. It's way above his current level, but he's definitely still better than me." Harry gave Draco a wide grin when the blonde glanced over at him as subtly as he could, lips twitching with a smile.

Kristopher, of course, watched them with a raised eyebrow and knowing smile, making Harry blush lightly and look away, feeling a little uncomfortable with the 'I-knew-it' look in Kristopher's expression. "Thank you for helping him, Mr. Malfoy," the older blonde said, his eyes leaving Harry's and landing on the blonde sorting poppy seeds into groups of three. "You're the entire reason he's passing this class. I'm sure he really appreciates your tutelage."

Draco looked up at him with a thoughtful expression for a moment before his lips curled in a sweet smile that had Harry's eyebrows raising into his hairline. "Glad I could be of help," he replied in a sugary voice. Harry had no idea how Draco did it; he didn't think he remembered Draco ever using anything but his I'm-so-tough voice in third year and wondered idly if Draco had an arsenal of different tools at his disposal, voices and expressions and all sorts of different ways to manipulate people.

Draco of course chose then to pull him from his thoughts. "Of course," he'd continued, laying a hand on Harry's shoulder and resting his head against it, looking up at Kristopher through long eyelashes. "That's what best friends are for, right?" Harry watched as Kristopher gulped, torn between irritation and what was probably arousal, because at the moment, Draco was undeniably seductive.

The thought started Harry more than he would like, muscles tensing as he realized that he'd just thought of Draco as  _seductive_. And he was, there was no denying that. Long dark blonde eyelashes, lovely skin (probably the result of ridiculous amounts of magical facial products, admittedly, or just really fantastic genes, which was equally plausible knowing the Malfoy family), and pouty pink lips curled in a smile - well, he couldn't  _blame_ Kristopher for looking a little taken aback, could he?

"No, erm - right. Moving on. Weasley! How are you doing?" Harry couldn't help but snicker a bit, even if he was still a little uncomfortable with his recent discovery. Draco, however, had buried his face in Harry's shoulder, his own trembling with silent laughter.

"Good job," Harry whispered to him, fighting the urge to laugh. "I think you seriously charmed the trousers right off of him!"

"Did you see the look on his face?" Draco whispered back, giggling himself (though Harry knew he would claim it was masculine chuckling, of course). "I haven't had that much fun teasing a professor since I called Uncle Severus 'Sevie' in front of the entire Slytherin common room." Harry rolled his eyes, not surprised in the least, but the mental image was still quite amusing.

The problem was, though, that Draco was whispering directly into Harry's ear, his warm breath coming in puffs against his skin, and the close proximity was just reminding Harry with a warning bell how attractive he'd found him a minute ago. With a faint blush, he managed to push Draco away playfully, putting distance between them and keeping the mood friendly at the same time.

The both of them grinning, they went back to preparing Harry's sure to be lethal potion in quiet.

"All right, class! Bottle up a sample of your potions and set them here at the front - and remember! Your practical exam is next week!  _Study_ ," Kristopher was saying a half-hour later, nearly shouting over the clanking sounds of his students cleaning up their desks.

"I'm so glad that's over," Draco groaned as he slung his bag over his shoulders. Harry found himself glad that Draco had refused to go to the third-year classes due to his condition, knowing they were pointless. He much preferred Draco going to classes with him - he was a pretty steady source of amusement. "Ugh, and Pansy made us promise we'd go have dinner with her out by the lake. Lame." Harry rolled his eyes at Draco's dramatics, knowing that Draco much preferred having dinner in private, with his friends, than in the noisy great hall.

"It's not like you can back out," Harry pointed out as he put the stopper on their potion. "She already had the house elves set everything up, after all. I think she needs it. This past couple weeks had been a bit of a doozy for her."

"They've been a bit of a doozy for everyone," Draco muttered, then glared at Harry incredulously when he realized what he'd just said. "A bit of a  _doozy_? Who taught you to speak, Potter? No dignity! You would never survive in high-class society -"

Draco managed to continue complaining about his lack of dignity for the entire walk from class to the lake, but Harry humored him, nodding and apologizing absently with every direct accusation. "Are you even listening to me, Harry? Really, I'm trying to help you function in society here and you're just off fantasizing about Merlin knows what..."

"I was listening," he answered with chuckle, throwing his arm over Draco's shoulders. "It's not my fault you drone on and on, though. It's awful."

"You're awful," Draco grumbled, cheeks flushed a bright shade of pink, but he didn't shrug Harry off, and might have even shuffled a little closer. "Oh, there they are - did she really have to sit  _right_ next to the lake? How is the giant squid not giving her all sorts of hell?"

"Draco!" Luna called with a bright smile, waving to him from her place at Neville's side. There was another set of friendships he hadn't foreseen surviving, but they had. Luna was difficult to dislike and he'd expected Draco to at least tolerate her, but to his surprise, he and Neville got on rather well.

"Hey, Draco," Blaise greeted him. Draco got a nod and a friendly smile from Neville - and of course Pansy didn't even bother with a hello; she merely grabbed his arm once he was in distance and pulled him down next to her.

"You're not even going to  _believe_ what happened in my transfiguration class," Pansy hissed at him, looking a bit too excited about the clearly either a) embarrassing or b) condemning story she was about to tell. Before she started, though, she glanced up at Harry, managing a tiny, strangled looking smile and a faint blush. "Oh. Hi, Harry."

He smiled back sheepishly. "Hey, Pans. Carry on; don't mind me!"

She nodded, turning back to Draco and snuggling into his side as she proceeded to tell her story about a very apparently stupid Hufflepuff.

* * *

"Happy Valentine's Day, you dolt!"

Harry laughed loudly as he and Draco walked into the Great Hall that morning, only to almost run into Pansy as she waiting for them just inside. Draco was blinking owlishly, looking a little surprised – and could Harry really blame him? He'd forgotten, too, which was a pretty impressive feat considering how Ginny had been going on about it. It must have slipped his mind, he thought as he let Pansy drag them over to their seats. She seemed quite bright considering all the drama of the past week, and Harry was glad.

"Now, you have a date, don't you?" Pansy was saying and Harry managed to tune back in long enough to do a double take.

"I don't really  _need_ a date, Pansy – I'll have enough people trying to spike my drinks as it is –" But Pansy was clearly not taking any bullshit and clearly could not care less about whether he needed a date or not.

"Well, you can take me as your date or Draco, but you know you'll have to pick one. Think about what everyone would say if you went alone!"

"I don't care about going alone to parties, Pansy," Harry snorted. "I've been doing it for years. The last time I had a date for anything was when Gin and I were still together, which didn't end too well, did it?"

Pansy rolled her eyes, sitting him down across from her. Honestly, Harry was pretty sure she'd taken some pepper-up or something because this sudden snap back to their normal friendship after her confession and his hurting her – well, it was a bit unusual. "I know you think you're funny, but you're also lying. You went with Viktor Krum to some party over the summer, didn't you?"

Harry growled at her, suddenly  _really_ regretting telling her things because suddenly Draco's eyes were on him and he looked like he was about to have a heart attack. "What is she talking about, Harry?" Draco's expression made him pretty sure that Draco had suddenly regressed to eight years old again, innocent and shocked.

"I might've had a thing with Viktor – but really, it wasn't like that," he snapped at Pansy, who just laughed at his red cheeks. "Seriously, it was like a drunken thing, we didn't even –"

"Whoa, thirteen year old over there does not need to hear about your sexcapades!" If Harry could kill Ginny without getting thrown in Azkaban for it, he was considering doing it.

"Did you really have a…  _thing_ with Viktor Krum?" Draco asked him, his voice low and urgent. He looked half awed and half terrified, like he wasn't sure how he should be responding to the idea of Harry with a bloke, but the bloke being  _Viktor Krum_ , he couldn't make up his mind on how he should feel about it.

Harry forgot that Draco had a little bit of a hero worship thing going on with Krum – which, don't get him wrong, was a nice change from everyone's hero-worship thing with him (but then, Draco'd had one of those, too) – and that he'd been more than a little star-struck when he'd heard about Harry's friendship with him in the first place. "Um, yeah," he admitted sheepishly. "There might have been a little bit of a thing. Not a lot or anything. We were hanging out, we were pretty pissed."

"I don't know whether to be impressed or disgusted by your lack of finesse, Potter. There's that dignity thing we were talking about again!"

Harry looked up at Draco in confusion. He'd maybe expected a bit of spluttering, a few gay jokes, perhaps – but not the easy grin Draco was sending his way, eyes a little apologetic and just as sheepish as Harry feels.

"It doesn't bother you, then?" he asked, and Pansy was rolling her eyes from across the table, striking Blaise up in conversation because Draco and Harry were in their own little world again.

Draco's eyebrows shot up to his hairline, but he did look a little embarrassed. "Well, I know I haven't exactly, erm, been very accepting of you in the past –" Harry snorted, remembering the way Draco had treated him for almost their entire time knowing each other. "- but it doesn't really bother me!" he finished hastily. "I mean, obviously  _I'm_ not –" And Harry couldn't help but smile from the humor of the situation, and cover it up with his hand, because he knew Draco a little bit better than that to fall for the lie. "- but if you're into the occasional bloke, well, who's to stop you?"

Harry smiled because, well, he knew that Draco was a little-bit-a-lot gay, but that was adult Draco and this one, this barely teenage version of him, wasn't fully grown yet. He wasn't sure how this Draco would react, and he was glad that it wasn't in a bad way. "Thanks for being so understanding," he said cheekily, ruffling Draco's hair, and the blonde growled at him. His hand was swatted away, but the slight tension was gone and things were back to normal.

* * *

The party wasn't exactly something he was looking forward to, but Draco had insisted, and he was dragged unceremoniously into the Great Hall that night. There were a couple tables here and there, and several small, winged children flying about that he was pretty sure were illusions but wasn't totally positive.

Technically, Draco was there as his date, insisting, "Harry, you heard Pansy – you have to have a date! She's right about that. And you can't take Pansy, because it'll just hurt her more –" Draco was using his guilt against him, he knew that, but it still worked. "- and it's not like you're going to take anyone else. So I'm the obvious choice. You can deal with my company for a few hours!" He decided against reminding Draco that he dealt with his company practically every hour of every day without any ill effects and instead nodded somberly and offered his arm. Draco had refused, smacking him on the shoulder with a light blush and admonishing him that  _just because I'm your date does not make me a girl, Potter!_

As it was, the party was going well. He'd yet to drink anything and therefore had so far successfully avoided being drugged, and Draco was amusing him with a diagnosis of the relationship between each couple in the room. "Of course," he was saying, and Harry just nodded along like he understood how Draco was doing it. "I don't have to tell you how insanely in love Luna and Neville are, even if they don't really show it – of course they don't, Luna is too weird for conventional ways of showing affection, isn't she? But see, right behind them? That's Astoria Greengrass; she's a friend of the family. Apparently her older sister, Queenie – I mean, Daphne – didn't come back to Hogwarts this year, but Astoria's here. How odd. Well, I don't know the bloke she's with, but I'm fairly sure that they're shagging each other senseless."

Harry laughed, examining the blonde girl and her date and finding himself unable to tell how Draco had figured that one out. "How do you do it?" he asked, amusement evident in his voice, and Draco grinned at him a tad wolfishly.

"It's easy – look at the way she's leaning against him. Her tits are practically making indentions in his chest. And his pelvis is pressed right against her. Plus, his hand's on her bum. If they were just shacking up, they'd be a little more excited about it, don't you think? They've done it before, and plan on doing it again. They're  _teasing_  each other. Which, in public, is rather immature of them, but I suppose you can't really judge them. That's practically what Valentine's is for, yeah?"

Harry was torn between being a little taken aback at Draco's forwardness and laughing as he realized that everything Draco had said was true.

"It's a little weird, though," Draco continued, sounding a tad perplexed. "I'm used to her being this little second year who refused to leave Daphne's side. I'm pretty sure she had a crush on me back in the day."

Harry snorted at that. "Considering I'm pretty sure you were engaged at some point, that would make sense."

Draco turned pink and shut up, sipping at his drink – probably punch, and he hoped to god someone hadn't spiked the punch bowl – with the daintiness of a scandalized maiden. Harry found it to be hilarious, though he didn't say so out loud, contenting himself with patting Draco on the shoulder lightly.

But when he touched Draco's shoulder his body went rigid, sparks shooting through his arm at the contact. Everything seemed to happen both too fast and too slow as Draco, seemingly without thought, leaned over and kissed him lightly on the lips, eyes fluttering shut.

" _Merlin's balls –_ Blaise Zabini! You utter git!"

Harry and Draco both pulled back in shock, faces redder than tomatoes, more than happy to look away from each other to glare at Blaise, who appeared to be rupturing an organ via laughter, judging from the way he was bent over, face screwed up. A quick glance over at Draco told him that the boy was radiating heat, face glowing a bright shade of pink, and no, this really wasn't Harry's week.

"I'm sorry," Pansy apologized when she reached them after smacking Blaise firmly upside the head. She was biting her lip, clearly trying to contain laughter, but that unfathomable look was in her eyes again, one Harry did not want to think about. "I didn't realize who he was aiming at – really, he was only trying to have a bit of fun… oh, hush up, Draco. You'd think he made you kiss Flitwick. Really, at least Harry's good-looking."

Harry choked on his "Thanks, Pansy" but the grin she sent him told him that she'd definitely picked up on how uncomfortable he was. Draco, however, appeared to be having an aneurism – at least until laughter bubbled out of his mouth, blush as bright as ever.

"You're such an arse, Blaise!" he called over the loud laughter of the Great Hall. "C'mon, Harry – I think he needs to be taught a lesson!"

Harry, surprised at Draco's non-violent/non-negative reaction, let the blonde pull him away from the drinks table over to his friend, and tried not to think about how soft his best friend's lips were.

* * *

"Harry?"

Harry looked up from where he was reading on the couch to see Draco in the doorway to his room, dressed in a white t-shirt and a pair of pajama bottoms that were probably silk. "Yeah, Draco?" he asked, slotting the bookmark in his book and setting it aside. The blonde examined him for a minute before evidently making a decision and walking over, his footsteps making no sound on the stone floor. Draco always had that talent – either walking silently, or with a sharp clack of his shoes. It was infuriating and at the same time awe-inspiring. Yeah, Harry agreed, he probably would be useless in high-class society.

"Pansy said something earlier, after the whole Blaise-being-an-idiot fiasco," Draco said as an introduction to whatever he wanted to talk about, curling up on the other end of the couch. For someone all about dignity, it was surprisingly undignified, but then, Harry had gotten to know Draco incredibly well.  _And now you know what his lips taste like,_ his subconscious whispered at him, but he steadfastly ignored it and nodded at Draco to go on. "About fourth year. Did something happen that year that I should know about?"

Harry racked his brain for an answer, but came up with nothing. "You mean, other than the Triwizard Tournament and the Potter Stinks badges?" Draco snickered at that, having already heard that story, and nodded.

"She told me that she wanted to warn me in advance that it wasn't the best year of my life," Draco answered, biting his lip. He was clearly still nervous, and Harry wished he had more information to give him.

In spite of the fact that he and Draco were no longer constantly cuddly – an occupational hazard of growing up, Harry supposed – and were now instead  _friends_ , he still maneuvered and held an arm out to Draco, inviting him in. The blonde was eager to shift over into Harry's arms, leaning against his side with an ease he'd obviously developed since the potion accident, ignoring, for the moment, his memories of his first few years at Hogwarts.

They were back to being real friends now, instead of the codependent  _DracoandHarry_ thing they'd had going on in the past several weeks. They punched each other in the shoulder playfully and teased each other and Harry most certainly did not carry Draco around. At the end of the day, though, they were still more than that. Harry and Draco had developed a relationship that was more than that. He was Draco's support, and Draco was his. He just wished he could help with what was making Draco's eyebrows furrow now.

"I'm sorry, Draco," Harry sighed, running a hand through Draco's hair. "I really don't know what Pansy could have been going on about. I remember you being a bit off in fourth year, but we weren't exactly talking much." He paused. "Well, there was that one time you told me that you and your father were betting on how long I'd last in the tournament, and you got turned into a ferret-"

Draco laughed haltingly, pushing him away with pink cheeks. "Shuttup, Potter," he muttered, but he was smiling, and he curled back into Harry's side a moment later. "I guess it doesn't really matter. I was just wondering if you knew."

"I'm hopelessly in the dark," Harry answered with a dramatic sigh, and Draco chuckled quietly, relaxing against him again.

"Can we just stay here for a bit?" Draco asked a few moments later, looking up at Harry with those huge grey eyes. Smiling fondly, Harry nodded, and pressed a kiss to Draco's hair and pretended that he didn't know what rather recent memory that was going to invoke. He would also pretend he didn't see Draco's blush because he wasn't in the mood to tease – but if he grinned a bit to himself and thought about how cute Draco was – well, no one had to know that but him, did they?


	12. Pretending

"Pansy's good at getting over things."

So Draco said, bent nearly in half on the armchair with a book, but Harry was still dubious. Pansy was almost completely back to normal, excepting the odd glance toward him when she thought he wasn't looking, yet Harry couldn't wrap his head around the idea that she was more or less over it. The Pansy he remembered was a true Slytherin, a grudge holder - and yes, exceptions were made for her close friends, but he'd broken her heart. How could she just forgive him like that? He was under no impression that the situation was his fault, but he was still responsible. He'd expected it to take a while to earn Pansy's affections back on principal, though it would never be more than friendship.

"Stop," Draco groaned, shutting his book and glaring at Harry. "That look on your face is driving me mad. Pansy's a sensible girl; she's not going to hold it against you that you're fit and charming and generally irresistible. It's pretty much impossible not to love you - but she does realize you're gayer than Gilderoy Lockhart." He seemed to pause after saying it, as if surprised it had come out of his mouth.

Harry couldn't help but snort in amusement at that. "I'm not gay and you know it. I just... don't really have a preference. I think." Draco gave him a brief smile, jaw tightening slightly, and Harry's head cocked at him in confusion, but Draco was already continuing, clearly avoiding his questions.

"It doesn't really matter anyway. The point is, Pansy is exceptionally fond of you. She enjoys your company and doesn't want to give it up," he explained breezily, changing the subject. He was doing it on purpose, but Harry let him go with it. He knew Draco would tell him when he was ready - after all, it was probably related to his breakdown earlier that week.

The morning after he'd turned fourteen had left Draco locked in his room, and if Harry wasn't mistaken, he might have heard a sniff or two. He'd refused to come out all day and the only time he'd left, it had been with his Quidditch gloves, brushing past Harry with a face hidden by long, shimmering strands of blonde hair. Harry'd been at a loss, but when Draco had returned, he learned that is friend had remembered something - quote on quote - "unsettling" and had gone to Pansy after flying to clear his head. He assumed she was the one to cut his hair as well.

Pansy had later refused to tell him what they'd talked about that had Draco holed up in his room beforehand, but she'd confided in him that he was just as much a drama queen about it as he was before, only now it was the new him balking at the knowledge and acceptance of a few things in his memories. Of course, it had done nothing but confuse him further, which had probably been Pansy's intention.

"I'm going to trust you on this, but let it be known I'm still a tad skeptical," he told Draco, who rolled his grey eyes toward the ceiling.

"I very much doubt that," Draco replied with a smirk. "You're very gullible, Harry. Quick to believe what you're told. The only reason you're not going for it now is because you feel guilty and your self-deprecating behaviour overrides your gullibility for the moment."

While internally agreeing with the assessment - he did know his faults - Harry snorted at Draco's matter-of-fact tone. "Gullible? I'm not -"

"Even  _you_  know you are. Give it up." Harry laughed in the face of Draco's raised eyebrow, pushing the book he was studying away. He was through studying for the night (even if he had a practical exam in charms that Friday and was for the most part impressively unprepared) and moved over to the couch with wand polish in hand.

He had something to ask and wasn't sure how to do it, mostly out of uncertainty over how Draco would react. He would either do so well, badly, or awkwardly, and he had no idea which.

"So it's a Hogsmeade weekend," Harry began, looking up at Draco out of the corner of his eye. "What do you say we go out and meet some friends of mine at the Three Broomsticks on Saturday?"

Draco met his gaze with raised eyebrows. Harry had been meaning to bring it up for the last two days, ever since he'd received a letter from Viktor and his new girlfriend, Amelia, but had never gotten around to it. He would have gone alone, unsure of how Draco would react to his Bulgarian friend, but the fact was that they always spent the weekends together, and he didn't need another angry Draco on his hands. Besides which, he would just feel wrong for leaving him.

"Are we talking Weasel and Granger?" Draco asked, that eyebrow arching up toward his hairline. Harry kind of hated that eyebrow. It reminded him too much of Draco-Draco, the one who teased him and helped him with potions. He felt a sharp pang of missing him.

Draco looked at him curiously and he pulled himself back. "Not exactly..." Draco's mouth closed, head cocking to the side in confusion. "I meant to mention it a couple days ago, but I got a letter from Viktor. He's going to be in town with his girlfriend, and wanted to know if we could meet up. I figured you might like to get out of the castle, and it's weird to go places without you. You don't have to go if you don't fancy the idea, but I thought it would be nice."

Draco's expression didn't change much – a tiny twitch of the mouth, a purposefully raised eyebrow – because apparently that eyebrow had no limits on how high it could go – to make himself seem more nonchalant. Harry knew him better than that. He definitely was not overjoyed at the idea.

"Draco?" Harry hummed nervously. "You're giving me that look that says you want to punch me one. Are you all right?"

"Don't act like I'm about to spontaneously combust," Draco said with a roll of the eyes after a minute of deep, even breathing. "You're right, I'm not really fond of the idea." The set of his jaw told Harry that before he'd even spoken. "But you're right, we never go places unless we're together. Of course I'm coming. I'll even promise to be somewhat civil."

"Wow, doesn't that sound like it'll be fun," Harry deadpanned but smiled and Draco snorted his own laughter in return. "All right, point. You're in then?"

"I just said I was, didn't I?" Draco answered with a roll of those grey eyes. "Honestly, Harry, it would do you good to listen when people speak!"

"But where's the fun in that?" he asked, laughing, and Draco leaned over to shove him lightly and they both cracked up with Harry went tumbling off the couch.

* * *

Things were changing for Harry.

Not in a huge way – though maybe it should have been – but it was still change. Like the way that Draco looped his arm through Harry's when they walked, and it seemed weird to not be connected like that. Or how it was just normal to wait for Draco before going to dinner if he hadn't gone to class with Harry that day. Or maybe even how it stopped being a little strange when Harry caught Draco wrapped up in one of his sweaters - which was now pretty much an every day occurrence. Ginny teased them for being glued at the hip, but the truth was that they pretty much were.

"I swear to Merlin, though, if you two go off to shag in the toilets –" Draco was complaining in earnest as they walked, side by side, down to Hogsmeade. Blaise and Pansy were a little ways behind them, and Neville, Luna, and Ginny were a ways up ahead, laughing about something Harry couldn't near.

"He's bringing his girlfriend," Harry answered, laughing. "You little wanker!"

Draco glared at him, his cheeks tinting pink. "Rude word, Harry!"

Of course, this statement was met with laughter from Blaise, Pansy,  _and_ Harry, so Draco just huffed and let Harry throw an arm over his shoulder, pulling him close as they walked. "So, who is this chit?" Blaise asked loudly, catching up to them from behind and tugging Pansy with him. "I haven't heard much about him in the tabloids recently, and certainly nothing about a love interest."

"That's probably because she's a little shy of the limelight," Harry answered with a shrug. "I met her over the summer, before her and Viktor were an item. Seemed pretty skittish."

"Good job dating a famous Quidditch player, then," Pansy snorted and Harry couldn't help but agree. Still, the fact that she wasn't soaking up the attention made him feel a bit better about the whole thing. He knew enough people that would use Viktor for his fame, and it was a relief that Amelia didn't seem to be doing that.

"Come off it, Pansy," Draco retorted, a bit of that snarky gleam Harry was used to in his eyes. "As if you wouldn't if you had the chance!"

Pansy seemed to be a little started by the teasing, blushing red almost immediately. Blaise was dying of laughter, of course, but Pansy's cheeks just darkened in embarrassment. "Draco, darling – didn't we have a discussion about how that phase will never, ever be discussed again?"

Blonde eyelashes fluttered innocently. "Must've not gotten that memory back yet," he answered sweetly, swinging his and Harry's linked arms lazily.

Pansy turned her dramatically betrayed gaze to Harry, who bit his lower lip and tried not to laugh. outright. Seeing Harry's struggle, she narrowed her eyes, turning back to Draco and giving him a sickly sweet smile. "Oh, really? That's funny. There seems to be something  _I_ promised not to speak of – if we're playing this game, that is –"

Draco sucked in a sharp breath and yanked his arm away from Harry's, a blush lighting his face like a beacon. "You wouldn't," he hissed and Pansy grinned triumphantly.

"What have we learned about getting on my bad side?" she asked him and he huffed under his breath and turned away, crossing his arms with a pout.

"Harry!"

Shaking away the confusion of what had made Draco so brilliantly red, he zeroed in on the hulking Bulgarian waving at him with a wide grin. Breaking away from his blonde charge, he jogged forward, letting Viktor – accompanied by a grinning Neville, Ginny, and Luna – pull him into a hug. "I've missed you," Viktor said in his thick accent, grinning at Harry with a gleam in his eye. "Surely you've missed me as well?"

Harry gave him a chuckle and clapped him on the shoulder. "If you'd given me time to reply, I would have said that I did, mate. Where's Amelia?"

"Waiting for us inside," Viktor answered. "She's quite sensitive to the cold."

Harry nodded, understanding immediately. Draco had a similar problem – it was why he was usually bundled up so tightly, furs and gloves and scarves all perfectly in place, doing what they can to protect his pale skin from the winter chill.

Speaking of Draco, he turned his grin on the blonde, who seemed to be pouting as he came forward to join them. "Draco! Come meet Viktor!"

Viktor gave Harry a raised eyebrow almost as impressive as Draco's when he gave the Bulgarian a practiced sneer and tucked himself into Harry's side. "Pleasure," he said, grimacing as Viktor gave his hand an enthusiastic shake.

"You're the Malfoy boy," Viktor said with a quick grin and a nod of the head. "I remember you from the Tournament." He gave Draco another once-over, his eyebrows pulled together in confusion. "You don't seem to have grown much. Are all Malfoy men so small?" The question was directed at Harry, but predictably, it was Draco who bristled.

"No, Viktor," Harry answered quickly before he could meet Draco's quick, vicious wit. "That's kind of a long story, though. I managed to display some of my Potter brilliance and Draco took the fall for it. I'll explain over drinks, yeah? Amelia is probably getting lonely."

At the mention of his girlfriend, Viktor brightened up and Draco eased up on his death grip on Harry's arm slightly, his suspicous glare cooling. He didn't let up, however, as they walked to the Three Broomsticks, Pansy and Blaise sharing glances in Viktor's direction while Ginny struck up a conversation about Quidditch. Harry sighed when they reached about the halfway mark and curled his fingers around Draco's, pulling them off of his bicep. The blonde gave a look of betrayal, but Harry rolled his eyes and re-wrapped Draco's hand around him, his arm looped through Harry's. The blonde shot him a questioning glance and Harry said curtly, "No need to cut off my circulation, love." Then, with a crooked grin, "I still love you most; you don't have to be jealous!"

Draco went scarlet and glared, but didn't pull away. "I'm not jealous, you sod," he grumbled but Harry just laughed and Draco's scowl crumbled into a reluctant grin, then giggles. "I don't know why I put up with you."

"I'm impossible not to love, remember?" he shrugged, opening the door to the bar.

"Harry!" they heard, looking up to grin at Madame Rosemerta, who bustled up to them with a wide smile. "And Draco - hello, loves! Come in, come in. It's colder than the ninth circle of hell out there."

"Hello, Madame Rosemerta!" Draco answered as he shuffled inside, pulling his hat off. "Could I get a butterbeer?"

"Sure thing," she answered, patting him on the cheek. "And you, Harry?" She leaned in, offering him a hug. He accepted with a smile, following her to the counter.

"Would you just go with it if I said firewhiskey?" he asked cheekily, prompting a roll of the eye from both Draco and the blonde witch.

"How about a butterbeer and I think about slipping you some fairy wine later?" she replied with a laugh and Harry sighed dramatically.

"Fine," he answered, taking the drink she offered him, handing another to Draco. "I'll hold you to it. Talk to you later, Rosie!"

She leaned over to pop him on the cheek, but laughed.

Draco followed Harry closely as they wound their way to the largest table - and probably the most interesting at the moment, filled with Gryffindors and Ravenclaws and Slytherins and Bulgarian celebrities and now, boys who lived.

"Hello, Amelia," Harry was saying, leaning over to give the girl a kiss on the cheek. "Long time no see. How's your brother?"

She gave him a dimpled smile in return. "He's doing quite well. He told me to say hello for him, as well as another thank you for the Quidditch lessons this summer."

"It wasn't a lesson; he doesn't have to thank me," Harry chuckled. "It was just us having some fun. Oh, Amelia - I don't think you've met everyone." Draco glanced up at him as he stood to be able to gesture properly. "The blonde on the end is Luna Lovegood - her father writes for the Quibbler. Next to her is her boyfriend, Neville Longbottom. The redhead is Ginny Weasley - you met her brother Ron sometime this summer, I'm sure - and next to her are Pansy Parkinson and Blaise Zabini." He gave that a moment to sink in before continuing. "And  _this_  is my ward of sorts and close friend, Draco Malfoy."

Amelia looked at him with a smile, but the confusion was evident on her face. "Hello, everyone. But if you don't mind me asking...?" She nodded in Draco's direction. "He's quite young."

Harry winced. "That's mostly due to my own stupidity." When her face was a question mark, he sighed and elaborated. "I'm hopeless at potions, everyone knows that. Draco was tutoring me, because he's the only one who has the patience enough to deal with me, or maybe he's just a saint of some sort -" That statement earned him a snort from half of the table, including the fourteen year old in question. "And I might have ballsed it up. Badly. Draco pushed me out of the way, and got covered in some sort of de-ageing solution."

"Biggest cock-up in his potions history," Ginny said with a shit-eating grin.

The table laughed, and moved on to other topics. Draco, for the most part, tuned out.

It wasn't on purpose, of course - Draco never purposefully ignored Harry, even before the accident, that he could remember at least. Harry was sure that Draco's tuning out had something to do with the fact that a majority of the discussion was about Viktor and Viktor's career and Viktor's relationship with Amelia, and Neville's expected Herbology mastery and well, Draco wasn't known for his interest in any of those things.

So it wasn't really any surprise that the only time Draco really paid any attention was when Harry had something to contribute. The rest of the time he was either playing with the handle on his butterbeer, or watching Harry watch whoever was speaking.

It wasn't until Draco excused himself to go to the restroom that Harry even paid much attention to it, because almost immediately, most of the table - barring Neville, Luna, and Amelia, who were in a conversation of their own - was watching him with amused, knowing looks. "What?" he asked, confused. "Do I have something on my face?"

It was Pansy who snorted delicately. "No, but if you went by the way Draco was staring, you'd think you did."

Harry cocked his head to the side, his eyebrows pulling together in confusion. "What are you talking about?"

"I love you to death, Harry, but you're a bit daft, aren't you?" Ginny asked in a tone akin to a coo. She sighed when the dark-haired wizard gave her a blank look. "I do hate to be the one to break this apparent unspoken policy of not-talking-about-it, but he's fourteen now and it doesn't seem to be going away; only getting worse. Harry, I know this may come as a bit of a shock because you're so adorably oblivious, but I would bet my wand and broomstick that Draco's a little...  _enamored_ of you."

"Frankly, my friend, the little blonde one has feelings for you," Viktor added, clapping him on the shoulder. "I understand, of course, you're quite the catch - but don't you think it's a bit cruel to let the boy go on like a love-sick puppy?"

Harry managed a strangled sound and flushed the color of Ginny's hair. "I don't - Draco's not  _interested_ in me! What are you talking about?" He looked to Pansy and Blaise for help, but the two of them just gave him that Slytherin  _bitch, please_ look and he realized with horror that they agreed. It was that realization that sparked the memories - all those times Pansy would watch them with that unfathomable expression, all of Draco's animosity toward Kristopher, all the blushing. His eyes widened.

" _Shit_."

Pansy let out a little chuckle that sounded too forced to be genuine. "And  _there_ it is. I can't believe it took you this long."

"Why didn't you tell me?" he hissed, knowing his cheeks were probably brick red. "You know I'm not good with these things!"

Pansy sighed and Blaise rubbed her back between her shoulder blades for comfort. "What was I supposed to say, Harry? He was a child! I hoped that it was just a little crush, a childish fancy. You were with him all the time and took care of him - it's like when little kids decide they're going to marry one of their parents. Since he's just a boy, not really  _Draco_ yet, I didn't want things to get awkward. I should have known it was already more than that - it's always been more than that. He was so obsessed with you growing up - is it really that much of a surprise? I mean, it's not like it's not obvious the boy's gay -"

Harry's expression, eyes wide and trained somewhere over her shoulder, stopped her from continuing and her eyes widened.

"How could you?"

Draco's voice was shaky and sounded fit to break, the betrayal in his eyes more heartbreaking than his words. Pansy turned around slowly, wincing, but Draco was already halfway to the door, neck bent, head down. Harry was up and after him in an instant.

"Draco!" he called, chasing the boy back up toward the castle, pushing through a group of people. The blonde nearly got lost in the sea of people, breaking through to the path leading from the village, but Harry finally caught him, pulling him aside and into a cluster of trees.

"How could she?" he cried almost immediately, offering no resistance to Harry's embrace; he actually seemed to sag against the older wizard. "She promised me she wouldn't tell - why would she tell? Now everyone is going to hate me! My father -" He cut himself off and paled further, a strangled sound coming from his throat. "He'll never forgive me. I'll be disowned, I'll-"

"Hush," Harry murmured, his muscled arms holding Draco's weight up. "Hush, or you'll give yourself a heart attack. It's going to be okay, Draco. I just need you to take a deep breath, okay, love?" The blonde head nodded, still hung. "No one hates you, Draco."

"But my father -"

"Loves you, very much. He always has, and always will. If there's one thing you need to have faith in, it's that. Your family loves you, just like I do, and Pansy and Blaise - even Ginny. You have lots of friends, and all of us adore you. Whether you like blokes or girls, it doesn't matter." Harry squeezed him gently and heard Draco exhale.

"Did you already know, Harry?" he asked, his voice almost meek, if Draco could ever manage such a thing.

"Yeah," he answered softly, loosening one of his arms and reaching up to stroke fine, pale hair. "I did. I never knew when you figured it out, so I've been running around in circles trying to figure out what was wrong all week, why you were so upset the day after you turned fourteen. But I did know, before that. It's not really a secret, Draco - that's why Pansy didn't think before she said that in the bar."

"Everyone knows?"

Draco trembled and Harry cursed himself. Whether eighteen-year-old-Draco was out and proud or not, this boy was still closeted and terrified of coming out. What Pansy had said earlier that week started to make sense - Draco remembered coming to terms with his sexuality, remembered accepting it - but this version of him, one who was aging so quickly, was still struggling to do the same, even if he technically already had.

Still, he couldn't take it back now that he's said it. He nodded, then, realizing Draco couldn't see the gesture, answered out loud. "They know. You told everyone yourself, after the war." He petted Draco's hair gently, his voice quieting. "I suppose you figured you'd had enough of secrets. "A lot of us already knew, of course - the entirety of Slytherin house, I'm pretty sure. Most of Gryffindor suspected, but no one made a big deal about it. Because it's  _not_  a big deal. No one thinks of you any differently than they had before."

Harry knew that it was fairly normal in the wizarding world, being gay - everyone knew Harry was pretty indiscriminate when it came to gender, and it wasn't a big deal. There were ways for gay couples to have children, so it wasn't a huge problem. The only remaining unease about it ran in pureblood circles, and even then it was usually to certain families and wasn't mentioned unless it came up in one of their families. As far as he knew, the Malfoys weren't included in that list.

Draco took a deep gulp of air that still sounded too shaky for Harry's tastes. Harry held him tighter, hoping to warm him as much as comfort him. He'd noticed Draco was beginning to shiver and worried for a minute. They'd left their coats in the Three Broomsticks - but Draco was beginning to speak again. "Mother and Father - they always said that it wasn't a problem. That it was easier for a heterosexual couple to provide an heir, but that it could work either way. But still - Teddy got beat when he came out! How was I to know whether I would receive similar treatment?" Already, Draco was starting to sound more like himself and less like the scared little boy he'd shown minutes before.

"Do you really think your father would beat you, Draco? I've never been fond of Lucius, but he's always seemed to dote on you," Harry asked gently, his arms around Draco in more of an embrace than anything now.

"No," he answered after a long pause. "No, you're right. He wouldn't hurt me."

"Exactly. And does anyone seem to be treating you badly because of it?"

Another shake of the head.

"We love you, Draco," Harry murmured, pressing a kiss to his temple. He chose to forget what Pansy had told him for now. It had nothing to do with anything - they were probably wrong, anyway. This boy seemed to have enough to worry about. Harry highly doubted he had a moment to spare to have a crush on Harry. Everyone was just reading too much into his hero-worship, was all. "Do you want to go back inside, love?"

Draco paused to think about it and shook his head, standing more firmly on his own. "No. Can we just go back to the castle, maybe play some chess?"

Harry smiled in relief - relief of what, he wasn't sure; maybe that Draco wasn't trying to push him away - and nodded. "Do you want to wait here while I go get our coats?" Draco nodded, wrapping his own arms around himself as if he'd just realized how cold he was.

"I'll be right back," he assured the blonde, and Draco nodded, shooing him away.

He hurried to the Three Broomsticks, rushing through and snagging their coats and Draco's hat off their chairs.

"Harry -" Pansy said, beginning to stand, but he shook his head, tugging his coat on.

"It's fine, Pans. I'll see to it that he comes to find you later, okay? I've left him out there; I need to get back to him."

She just sighed and nodded, looking defeated, but let Blaise pull her back down.

Harry found Draco huddled against a tree and the blonde gave him a relieved, tired smile when he saw the brunette. "Chess?" he asked, his teeth chattering the slightest bit. Even though he was dressed in a thick enough sweater, Harry still felt immensely guilty for leaving Draco out there alone.

"All the chess you want," he replied, and together, they trudged back up toward the castle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'm a shitty updater, but I promise I won't abandon my stories. :) I have a lot going on, so do be patient; updates will come!


	13. Heartkiller

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNING. This fic has been fairly innocent up until now, but the rating comes in at the end of this chapter.

"He's in love with you, you know."

Harry considered pretending he hadn’t heard Viktor, burrowing deeper into his blankets for a moment. He heard his guest clear his throat and groaned. He poked his head out from the covers and glared at the smug smile on his Bulgarian friend's face. “You know, repeating what everyone else has been saying since yesterday isn’t going to endear me to your presence.”

“Unfortunately, I’m not leaving till tomorrow night whether you want me here or not,” Viktor announced cheerfully with complete disrespect for the ungodly hour (of ten in the morning, but on a Sunday, any hour before lunch was ungodly, especially after the weekend he’s had). “You’re going to have to deal with it. Speaking of which – and for your sake you should be pleased I have no plans to speak of this in front of him – you know how he feels.”

“I’m going to make you stay in Hogsmeade.”

“You are not,” he chuckled. “You already feel bad enough because Amelia had to go home without me for her family emergency. You’re not going to make me stay elsewhere when I’m already here alone for the rest of my stay.”

"I hate it when you play me like this," Harry groaned. "You know my weak spots and exploit them." Viktor called him a bleeding heart; Harry called it being a decent person. Semantics.

Viktor smirked at him, arching one thick eyebrow in Harry's expression. "I'll drop the subject for now, little hero, but keep what I've said in mind. He could be good for you." Harry hated Viktor’s eyebrows and how they could so easily make him feel like he was being stupid. He had no doubt that was what Viktor was trying to do.

"He's a kid," Harry hissed, face flushed. "You do realise that, don't you? Besides which, I'm not interested!"

Viktor laughed at that - a full belly laugh that had Harry flushing at Viktor's easy acceptance of something he refused to admit to himself.

"You are a terrible person, my friend," Viktor told him, not sounding terribly concerned. "And a hideously bad liar."

"I'm not a terrible person," he grumbled. "Most people would argue that I’m a good person. Not wanting to molest a fifteen-year-old boy generally is criteria for being a good person.” Viktor, predictably, snorted at him.

“You are being petulant, Harry, and lying. Terribly.”

“We’ve established I’m a terrible liar,” Harry groaned, sitting up fully, rubbing at his eyes. “Why are you so determined to make me say it? I would have thought that everyone would be glad I’m not acting on it.”

“Acting on what?” Viktor asked him innocently and green eyes narrowed.

“You’re a prick.” Viktor’s smile was sweet, and he opened his mouth to answer when the portrait to their rooms opened.

“ _Harry_ ,” he could hear Draco whining, and ran a hand through his hair with an eye roll directed toward Viktor’s smug grin. “What is that blasted portrait saying? I’m positive the damn thing is making fun of me but I’m not a parselmouth. The job falls to you. Tell it to shut its trap or I’ll be forced to do something drastic.”

Harry sunk down, sighing heavily. He really was too tired to deal with all of this.

Then, of course, Draco was standing next to him, tilting his chin up and examining him, concern etched across his face. Harry almost laughed when Draco’s expression twitched into careful arrogance, covering up his worry, only to lapse back again. “Are you sick? If you got sick, you buffoon, I’ll smack you, I swear. You don’t look well.”

He managed a wan smile, feeling the slightest bit better on principal. “If that’s how you treat the sick, Draco, I don’t think I want you anywhere near me –“

He was practically tackled by the affronted teenager, laughing and pointedly ignoring Viktor’s raised eyebrow. “You sod! It would be a privilege to be taken care of by me when you’re sick. You should be lucky I give you the time of day –“ He wrestled Harry down, sitting on his stomach and frowning when the other man offered no resistance. “You’re honestly the least fun to wrestle with.”

“I thought Malfoys were above wrestling,” he teased.

“I never said that,” Draco complained, making a face as he slid off of Harry. “According to you, Malfoys never do anything amusing. You’d think we just sit around reading the Prophet and ranting about our hair.”

“To be fair, there are plenty of times I’ve seen you do just that,” Harry teased and Draco rolled his eyes, swatting at him. “Now, did you come up for a purpose, or did you just miss me?”

“Of course I didn’t miss you,” Draco grumbled, his cheeks pinking, making Harry’s smile widen. “Why would I miss you?”

“Then why did you come up?” Harry asked and laughed when Draco’s cheeks turned a shade darker, expression sullen. “Well? I wouldn’t actually mind if you came up to spend time with me. Viktor is hideously bad company, as it turns out.”

“I resent that, little hero,” Viktor snorted, and Draco seemed to choke at the nickname, lips curling in a smirk.

“ _Little hero_?” Draco repeated, grinning wolfishly. His expression prompted Harry’s eye roll. “That’s adorable, Harry. Completely accurate, of course. You’re dreadfully short. Does that ruin the effect with the women, I wonder?”

Harry punched him lightly in the arm. “I’m taller than you full-grown, so I don’t want to hear it, or I’ll start calling you _‘little damsel’_. Saved your arse, specifically, as far as I remember.” Harry wanted to take the words back the minute he said them, but when Draco let out a battle cry, cheeks pink, and tackled Harry to his back again, he just laughed and let himself not regret saying them.

He couldn’t help but wonder, as Draco proceeded to wage play war on Harry’s chest with his fists, if this was a different Draco than he had been when he was really fifteen, or if this was the side of him that no one but his close friends had ever gotten to see.

* * *

 

“You’re all big.”

Harry knew he was grumbling and pouty, and that he probably looked like a sullen little boy, but he couldn’t help but miss the soft lines and curves of Draco’s body. Now he’s aged (again) and most of those curves and softness have given way to angles matching Draco’s sharp chin.

“I’m fifteen,” Draco grunted, but he was smiling, clearly pleased, and lithe hands played with the hem of his shirt. Harry found it difficult to keep his eyes off of them. Then, he squared his jaw and made an effort to seem as strong as imposing as he had attempted to in his fifth year. He didn’t seem to be any more successful than he was then.

“But you’re taller and I really hate this,” Harry grumbled. “Just a couple weeks ago you were still little.”

“I’m still little compared to you,” Draco complained. “So stop making a big deal about it. Jeez, you’re so sentimental, Potter.” He tossed his head back, blonde strands flying behind his shoulder. He frowned at them. “My hair’s too long.”

Harry couldn’t help but laugh. “Do you want me to cut it, or do you want to do it yourself?”

Draco grimaced, tugging on a long lock of blonde hair. “You do it. I’m not in the mood to attempt to deal with it. Father always said I should grow it out, but I don’t like it long. It’s too much of a hassle. I prefer it short; I barely have to do anything with it to make it behave.”

Harry nodded, trying not to be secretly envious. Even after all this time, his hair was still a complete mess and showed no signs of getting better. “All right, we can do that.” He rubbed his eyes, grabbing his wand to cast a _tempus_. “We have about half an hour before my first class. We can cut your hair real quick, wake Viktor up, and set him to packing.”

“He’s not leaving until tonight, though,” Draco said, his eyebrows coming together in confusion.

Harry grinned at Viktor’s lightly snoring figure on the couch. “Yes, but you and I both know he won’t pack until five minutes before he’s supposed to leave unless we get on him about it now.” Draco snickered, glancing over at Viktor as well. “C’mon, love,” Harry said with a grin. “Let’s get your hair in order. Then we can wake up the big Bulgarian monster.”

Draco dragged him to the bathroom, grinning, and hummed lightly under his breath as Harry got the scissors from the drawer underneath the counter.

“I’m not sorry for being so standoffish around him, you know. I remember having this ridiculous crush on him last year – fourth year –“ Draco snorted, cheeks pink, and tried not to grin self-deprecatingly. “It bothers me, though, that he’s so close with you.” Harry raised an eyebrow as he ran a wet comb through Draco’s hair. The boy sounded disgruntled at the thought. “Which is ridiculous because clearly you like me more. It’s just strange, you know, that you and I are so close and now instead of being slightly jealous that you’d chose to give your time to Weasleys and Granger instead of to me, I just don’t like sharing.”

“You never liked sharing.”

“Yes, but we weren’t actually friends then,” Draco huffed, and Harry chuckled as he snipped off a small length of silken hair. “Now it’s even worse, because I’ve already got you.”

“You act like I’m your possession,” Harry teased as he trimmed. Draco glanced up at him through long blonde-brown lashes.

“Well, you are. Of course you are. I’ve been stuck with you and become quite fond of you. You seem to like me well enough this time around as well, so you can suck it up and deal with it.” Draco’s voice was so matter-of-fact that Harry paused, cocking a head as he examined the teenager’s earnest expression. Grey eyes flicked up to him and Draco’s expression became flat. “Look, Potter-“

“I wasn’t going to say anything,” Harry shushed him. “It’s just that it’s easy for me to forget that you’re not exactly my Draco, not the one I’m used to. That just sounded like something he would have said.” He paused, then added with a little smirk, “At the same time, though, you _are_ him. Pouty expression and all.”

Draco flushed, glaring up at him. “You’re a prick.”

Harry laughed. “Definitely my Draco.”

* * *

 

Harry groaned as he put a stopper on his potion, ignoring Pansy’s smirk as he took it up to Kristopher.

“You do realize that the potion is supposed to be dark green?”

Harry gave the vial filled with pink liquid a dirty look. “I’m aware.” Kristopher’s eyebrows raised and Harry frowned deeper.

“Even Miss Parkinson couldn’t keep you on track? Tut, tut, Mr. Potter,” Kristopher said, clearly trying not to laugh as he took the vial. “Perhaps we should require Mr. Malfoy to attend class with you? I’m surprised he hasn’t been lately anyway.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “He’s gotten old enough to realize that weeks on end where he doesn’t have to attend class are a gift. He’d probably on the pitch practicing whatever Quidditch-related things he thinks are worth the effort. I’m pretty sure I caught him trying to master the Wronski Feint the other day. Viktor thought it was hilarious when I told him.”

Kristopher laughed. “It is funny, I’ll admit. He’s good, though – has he thought about playing professionally? You could probably play, too, but I know you don’t have any interest in more fame.”

Harry shrugged, pulling over a stool that had been sitting a few feet away. He knew Pansy was still bitter and that he probably shouldn’t continue of this habit of talking to Kristopher whenever he had free time in class, but they got on well, and the blonde was a good conversationalist. “I don’t really think he’s taken anything into consideration, really. It was probably a dream when he was younger, but I’m sure you can understand that not many of us seriously thought about what jobs we wanted during the war. My Draco, the fully-aged one, was thinking about becoming a potions master afterwards, though, like his godfather.” He nodded toward Severus’s portrait.

“Aren’t they all _your_ Draco?” Kristopher asked, his expression seemingly innocent.

Harry glared. “You, too? Don’t give me that ‘what-did-I-do’ look, Kristopher.” He ignored the strange look he got from one of the girls in the front row. “I know what you’re implying.” When he shoved a pointed finger into the professor’s chest, Kristopher laughed, pushing it away.

“Only that it’s a little obvious you’re more than just friends, Harry-dear. Nothing more, nothing less – and apparently, I’m not the only one who thinks so. Isn’t that telling?”

“You’re an asshole,” Harry told him bluntly, making a seventh year giggle when she came up to hand in her potion sample.

“And you’re going to fail this class if you don’t figure out how to channel Draco’s talent without him here,” Kristopher told him cheerfully, taking the vial with a grin toward the girl who had laughed.

“Maybe I want to fail this class,” he muttered sullenly, but Kristopher just chuckled at him again. “And none of this has anything to do with Draco. It’s not my fault he’s better at potions than me. And stop insinuating things.”

“Do you want me to be painfully honest with you, Harry?” the blonde asked him, eyebrows raised, as he accepted another couple vials from a pair of Slytherin girls. He waited until they returned to their seats before continuing with a lowered volume. “You’re clearly in denial about the nature of your relationship with Mr. Malfoy. And that’s all right, because I know how you are and, well, he’s gone from a little boy to a teenager almost your age in a few months. It’s strange.” He paused, then added with a smirk, “Probably stranger to all of us than you, even.”

“Your point, Kristopher?” Harry asked, trying not to growl, but the look Kristopher gave his red cheeks made it clear he was amused.

“My point is that you need to get over it. The only one making things awkward is you.”

Harry really hated it when Kristopher was right. So, naturally, he argued anyway. “I’m not-“

“Making things awkward? Yes, you are,” Kristopher snorted. “Even I can see that, and I’m not around you very often. I watch you enough in class, and I’ve overheard you and Pansy whispering about it when you think you’re being discreet when you should be taking notes or working.”

“How is it not supposed to be awkward, then, O All-Knowing One? I’ve practically raised him. Again. Re-raised him.” Harry scowled. “It’s practically guaranteed to be awkward. I’ve developed feelings for a _kid_.” His voice was almost inaudible. He could barely believe that the first time he admitted that, it was to – of all people – Kristopher Reich.

Kristopher rolled his eyes. “You – Harry, correct me if I’m wrong, but I’m fairly sure you had feelings for Mr. Malfoy before he was turned into a child. You clearly weren’t aware of it, but I’m not going to lie to you and say I didn’t always think you two had something going on behind closed doors.”

“I’m done talking to you.”

“You know I’m right, Mr. Potter!” Kristopher called after him as he walked back to his seat, cheeks burning. Harry huffed as he sat back down, ignoring the _bitch-please_ look Pansy was giving him.

“You know…”

“Shut up.”

“I’d hate to agree with the one person I hate more than You-Know-Who, but I think Reich has a point. Several points, actually. So many points he might as well join Team Pansy because I’m sure I’ve thought everything he just told you.” She paused. “I don’t think I actually want him on Team Pansy, you know. I don’t think I ever want to see him at all, let alone enough to be on a team with him. He just, you know, has a point.”

“So you’ve said.”

“What he failed to point out is that Draco feels the same way you do. At least, I’m pretty sure. He denied it when he was actually this age, but, well, the boy’s not exactly subtle, is he?”

“He’s not exactly the same person he was when he was actually fifteen, Pans,” Harry sighed, giving up on avoiding the conversation.

Kristopher dismissed class before she could answer, but the minute they were out of the room and heading to dinner, where they would be joined by Viktor, Draco, and the rest of their gaggle of friends, she was off again.

“No, he’s just happier,” she countered. “Because instead of being a bitter kid with an unrequited crush he wouldn’t tell anyone about because how _embarrassing_ to have a crush on someone who was the living embodiment of everything he was supposed to despise – and let’s not forget you’d already rejected his hand in friendship, so he was so insecure over that.”

“You said you didn’t actually know for sure he had a crush on me,” Harry retorted, grasping at straws. Pansy rolled her eyes.

“He didn’t have to say it, but I can be 99% sure without a verbal confirmation. I’ve known him since we were children, Potter. He’s my best friend.”

“Look, can we just agree to disagree?” he asked, wincing when Pansy opened her mouth to argue. Luckily, the subject of their conversation came at just the right time.

“Disagree about what?” Draco asked cheerfully, hair windblown, cheeks pink. “It better not be about my Quidditch skills because I’ve nearly mastered the Feint, thanks to Krum. He’s not so bad, when he’s not ogling your bum, because really – how _obnoxious_.”

Pretending he didn’t see Pansy’s pointed look, he hooked an arm around Draco’s neck – lamenting the fact that the blonde was actually tall enough for him to do that with – and led him into the Great Hall. “And how did you bribe him into that, eh?”

Draco spoke enthusiastically for most of dinner, and then for most of the trip to the apparition point in Hogsmeade. He waved Viktor off with the same enthusiasm, obviously pleased at having Harry to himself again (possessive bugger). Harry waved him off with a grin as well, trying not to look too pleased at his friend’s departure.

“I’ll visit sometime soon,” Viktor told him as he hugged him goodbye. “It was good to see you.”

“You, too, Viktor,” Harry agreed, clapping him on the back, and then laughing when Viktor wrestled Draco into a hug as well.

“I’m a man, men don’t hug it out when they leave – Krum, let go of me!” Draco had yelled with flushed cheeks and squirming limbs, glaring at Harry when the older teenager chuckled at him, ruffling his hair when Viktor finally released him.

“Goodbye, little hero!” Viktor called before vanishing with a _crack_.

Draco stood, glaring at the spot where Viktor had been. “He’s not coming back,” the blonde grumbled before turning heel and heading up to the castle.

Harry chuckled to himself the whole way back.

* * *

 

He should have _known_ that the week had been too easy, too uneventful.  He really should have. He should have expected to be woken up in the middle of the night by a throaty groan, and he really should have expected it to be the last thing he needed after the past week.

“Draco?” he yawned, sitting up in bed. A quick tempus told him it was nearly five in the morning – several hours before he had to be awake.

"Ngh -"

Harry rolled back over, propping himself up on an elbow. He gave Draco's door a confused glance, only to be completely taken aback when he heard another cut off whimper. His mouth dry, Harry slid out of bed hesitantly, his feet meeting a rug cold from the stone beneath it. Before he could really come to terms with what the hell he was doing, he was crossing to the heavy wood door to Draco's room, seeing it was still cracked open.

He heard Draco groan again, the sound delicate and wrong in the way that it made Harry flush. He knew - knew, without any shred of denial - what Draco was doing. He knew, had done it himself countless times, only to have Ron or Seamus tease him about it later. They had found it funny - not _arousing_. They hadn't pressed their palms to their crotch in an attempt to stifle how hard they were becoming.

His eyes were locked on Draco’s slender frame, hips rolling, cheeks flushed, lips full and red from being bitten. Harry swallowed, feeling his cock jump against his palm. He backed up, blinking sluggishly. His body wasn’t entirely his too command, still slow with sleep and too malleable, too easy persuaded by the gorgeous vision in front of his eyes. He stumbled to the bathroom, doing his best not to slam the door behind him. He braced himself against the wall, letting his head fall back. "Fuck," he muttered, tightening his fist and thrusting forward. "Shit, _fuck_."

Another whine, high-pitched and impossible to miss, had him squeezing his eyes shut tight, throat tightening.

“Fuck,” he whispered again, his fist moving, slick and smooth and matching a rhythm that in the back of his head he realized matched the panting breath he’d heard a moment ago. Pictures flashed through his mind – Draco, breathing heard, eyes clenched shut. Draco, hips undulating against his mattress, fist gripping a handful of the sheets. Pink cheeks and glorious pale skin, slick with sweat and –

Harry clenched his teeth, feeling sweat drip down his forehead as well. His jaw protested and he unclenched his teeth, only to bite down on his lower lip, pretending that just for a moment there was nothing wrong with this, that he could do this and get it done with and not feel the guilt until later.

He didn’t want to look down and see his cock, flushed and dripping for a _fifteen year old boy_. He knew, subconsciously, that it was _Draco_ he wanted and not the boy he was then, but his real age didn’t matter when the body moving in the throes of a dream was that of a boy, three years younger than him and small even though his shoulders were becoming broad and his limbs strong.

God, Viktor had rubbed in his face and he was right – Harry _wanted_ , god, he wanted.

He fisted himself tighter, faster, trying to make it quick. It wasn’t going to make him feel any better about the whole thing, but it would at least give him relief, and he wanted it almost as badly as he wanted Draco.

The tightness in his abdomen was a relief and he just picked up the pace until there were thick lines of come coating his front, sticking to his white cotton shirt. He opened his eyes, meeting the gaze of his reflection, then acknowledged how thoroughly debauched he looked.

_“Oh, hell_ ,” he said weakly, sliding to the floor.


	14. Please Don't Let It Go

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did it again. Another month gone without me realizing it! Luckily, though, this story only has a couple chapters left – three, I think, after this one. So, for what it's worth, not too much longer untilTeddy Bear Troubles is complete! Thanks for sticking with it, guys!

**Chapter Fourteen: Please Don't Let It Go**

Harry really wished he could say that he didn't spend most of the day freaking out about their early morning escapade – and, preferably, didn't spend the entire rest of the week freaking out about it – but it would be a lie. Granted, he freaked out with more dignity than he would have a couple years ago and hopefully with more subtly, but he still was in a state of panic. Draco kept giving him odd looks, as if he wasn't sure why his warden was suddenly a complete basket case, but every now and again he'd glance at Harry when he didn't think the brunette would notice and blush faintly. That, of course, only served to rile Harry up further by reminding him of why he'd be blushing in the first place.

It made only logical sense that Harry would be in the Great Hall for lunch with Pansy, Luna, and Neville, his face buried in his arms, groaning as Pansy rubbed his back and no doubt made mocking puppy faces at their friends. After all, he needed to talk to  _someone_ , and he couldn't exactly go up to Draco and say "oh, love, just wanted to let you know that I might have peeped in on you last night and totally noticed you were getting off in your sleep about me and by the way, I liked it." The very idea of even hinting that he knew anything to Draco made his face burn and palms grow clammy. This generally told him it was a bad idea.

"I don't know what to do," he said, his voice muffled by his sweater. He hoped they heard him; he wasn't going to repeat it for the entire Great Hall to hear.

Pansy made an exasperated sound. "Kiss him?" She got a growl for her troubles and sighed. "Look, Harry, I don't know what to tell you. You've been whining about this for days, but if it helps, he's sixteen now. So you can stop calling yourself a pedophile when you think we're not listening. You're not even old enough to qualify, and Draco isn't young enough."

"It's still not okay."

"Harry," Neville said sternly, the tone so unexpected Harry looked up with a taken aback expression. "I love you to bits, mate – purely platonic, mind you; I feel like I should mention that with the subject matter of this conversation – but you're being a whiny arse." If Harry wasn't surprised enough, Neville continued. "If you're so repulsed by the idea, wait a couple weeks. He'll be back to normal by then. It's not like he's going to bring it up now – he kept it to himself for this long. He can wait for you to admit your feelings until he's back to eighteen."

"A surprisingly logical conclusion, Longbottom," Pansy said smoothly. "I'm impressed – and I agree. Harry, get over yourself. The boy can wait for a couple weeks and so can you. You can stop feeling guilty and get over yourself." She smiled as if this was a wonderful solution to things. Harry wasn't so sure.

"Except who's to say he didn't grow out of it? Or doesn't actually want  _me_ , but some stupid fantasy savior. Most people do that, you know." He wants someone to point out he has a fair point, but mostly, they just look at him when he's stupid.

"Draco isn't most people," Luna says, smiling at him a little dreamily. "You know that, Harry; stop being silly." She paused. "Oh, look. There he is now. Hello, Draco."

Draco was flushed, out of breath, and grinning widely. He'd obviously just come in from the pitch. "I flew circles around one of the Ravenclaw seventh years," he said immediately. "And a couple of the Slytherin seventh years, but I can't be sure they weren't letting me do that out of some strange sense of loyalty. And since when do the house teams play together for fun during free periods? We used to glare at each other and argue over who got the pitch!"

"The war is over, darling," Pansy said primly, reaching over Harry's hunched shoulders to pat Draco's back. "We all get along now. Look at you and Potter here." She ruffled Harry's hair, then made a face and tried to fix it back to where it was because apparently there was a possibly way for his hair to look even worse than it usually did and she had managed it.

Draco sat up straighter. "Harry and I are the exception," he told her primly. "I alone am a level of exceptional that exceeds all normality."

Even Harry couldn't help but laugh loudly, loosening up some.

"You're also incredibly modest," Harry teased, leaning in to ruffle Draco's hair.

"And you're a prick," Draco grumbled, but he smiled and leaned sideways, resting his head on Harry's shoulder. For all of Draco's posturing back in the day, Harry had seen him do that with Blaise or Pansy all the time – sometimes playfully, sometimes just tired. He couldn't stop the warmth that came from being the one Draco rested against now.

"Aw," Pansy chuckled. "You love him anyway. You love all of us, really."

"I'm just going to let you think that," Draco drawled, but the tiny curve of his lips gave his amusement away. "Harry, we only have a few minutes until Transfiguration. Do you want to go and get there early? I don't feel like playing more Quidditch, so I'm coming with you."

"Surely you do more all day than play Quidditch," Neville laughed. "You make it sound as if that's the only thing you do."

Draco blinked at him. "I also study potions. Sometimes."

Pansy snickered from her seat on the other side of Harry. "You're so boring, Draco," she told him. "It's a wonder we don't all fall asleep when you're around."

"Pansy!" Draco snapped, cheeks flushing.

"Yeah, Pans," Harry scolded – clearly trying to keep from chuckling himself. "No need to be rude."

"Somehow," Draco grumbled, pulling back and glaring at Harry. "I don't quite believe you're being sincere."

Their small group laughed, but quieted when a timid voice interrupted them.

"E-excuse me. Harry?" Harry turned around, cocking his head in the direction of the girl who had spoken his name. He vaguely recognized her as a fourth year and waited for her to speak. "I mean," she squeaked, tucking a lock of red-blonde hair behind her ear with a bright blush. "Mr. Potter?"

Harry's eyebrows furrowed in confused. "Harry is fine, um – Euphrasia?" She nodded. "Was there something you needed?" She blushed again, clearly flustered.

"Well, I just – several of us, actually…" She gestured back at the Ravenclaw table, toward a group of girls watching intently. "We were wondering if you and Malfoy were dating?" She bit her lip, clearly expecting an outburst, but instead, she just got Pansy's laughter and a red-faced Harry and Draco.

"No," Draco answered, sounding embarrassed. "We are  _not_ dating and I would ask that you keep your rumors amongst yourselves. If I have to hear of them again, be assured that I'll be rather cross about it." His grey eyes flashed, but his cheeks were still pink, belaying his harsh words.

"You could be," Luna interjected, smiling at the fourth-year, who looked like she'd gotten in way over her head. If Harry wasn't so mortified, he might have thought it was cute. "They would be adorable as a couple, wouldn't they?" She smiled brightly at Euphrasia, who swallowed and nodded. Her nose was pink.

"Luna," Harry said through gritted teeth. "You are not helping. At all."

"Well," Euphrasia said, clapping her hands together softly. She smiled at them innocently, clearly having not intended to make a mess of things. "I'm sorry for bothering you, Harry. Bye!" She waved cheerfully and left, leaving Harry sitting there stunned.

"She's so going to go tell everyone we're dating," Harry choked, and Pansy cackled at his reaction. Draco looked like he was about to spontaneously combust.

"Well," Pansy said cheerfully. "Sounds like you two are going to have fun for the next little while!"

"Shut up, Pansy," they snapped in unison.

* * *

"I don't know how I tolerate her!" Draco growled, swinging his bag over his shoulder. "I didn't get a single thing done because of her incessant babbling!"

Harry rolled his eyes as he followed Draco out of the Charms classroom, thankful they didn't have any more classes for the day. Kristopher was out with a terrible case of the Wizard flu – Harry was sure he'd get better eventually but for right now he was kind of enjoying the miserable moping the man was doing as he shuffled, red-nosed, to and from meals.

"You're not even actually taking the classes, love," Harry snorted, patting Draco on the shoulder.

Grey eyes glared at him. "I don't fancy being months behind, thanks. I'd like to at least have a vague idea of what's going on in the classes I'm missing."

"And when did this studious pupil come out?" Harry laughed. "Last I checked you were taking advantage of the free time to play Quidditch with whoever will spare time for your antics." Draco punched him in the shoulder, scowling. "Don't give me that, come on. I'm right and you know it. Besides, is Pansy really so bad?"

"Yes!" Draco cries dramatically and Harry snickers at him, managing to quiet his laughter when Draco glares at him. "If she doesn't shut up about her silly fantasies of being the godmother of our firstborn, I'll wring her neck, don't think I won't."

Harry had initially been a little embarrassed when Pansy had started to go on about it, but at this point, he actually felt a little amused by the idea. "I know. I was thinking Ginny for godmother, and Blaise for godfather. They are dating now, aren't they? Sort of, at least. Luna and Neville can have the next one, then Pansy – and maybe Ron. I think her and Ron might be able to get along, once Ron gets over himself."

Draco gaped at him for a moment before throwing his hands in the air. "You're not helping at all, Potter! At this point, even our friends will be convinced we're dating. They'll start planning our wedding, Harry!"

"I personally think Luna would plan a beautiful wedding. We'll get you some nice white robes, I'll have Pansy attempt to tame my hair – it'll be lovely. Just think of the nargles that will be hidden in our flowers."

Grey eyes narrowed. "Not. Helping."

"You're right. Nargles are mistletoe-only, aren't they? "

"Harry!"

Harry stopped, pulling him into an alcove and raising an eyebrow at him. "Why are you getting so worked up over this? They mean well enough. Is the thought of dating me so repulsive?"

"But we're not dating!" Draco seemed a little frazzled, cheeks pink. "The entire school is convinced of something that's not true and I just –" He cut himself off, harrumphing. "It's not about that."

Harry reached out, rubbing his hands over Draco's upper arms. "Draco. Calm down. Everything is nearly back to the way it was. Soon, you can move back into Slytherin if you want to, stop associating with me – whatever you want. If it bothers you so much, we can put an end to those rumours easily. I haven't been freaking out about it because I didn't think it was that big of an issue."

"It doesn't  _bother_ me, I just – why do you have to be so bloody difficult, Potter?" Draco looked like he was unsure of what to do and Harry frowned. "I don't hate the idea of us together," Draco mumbled finally, cheeks bright pink. Harry tensed, unsure of where this was going. "That's the problem."

"Draco?" Harry managed, his voice kind of choked, and Draco glanced up like he'd just realized what he'd said. "I… what does that mean?"

"Can we please not talk about this?" Draco asked, biting his lower lip and inching away.

"No, Draco –" But the boy slipped out from the alcove, rushing down the hallway. Harry threw a frustrated hand in the air, ignoring the group of girls nearby who giggled at him, openly looking between the retreating blonde and himself. He sighed, and followed Draco back to their rooms.

* * *

"You're going to have to talk to me sometime, Draco!" Harry called through the door. "We're kind of best friends, you can't just avoid me forever."

Pansy, from their table, raised an eyebrow at him. She sighed when he just gave her a frustrated glance back. "He's embarrassed, Harry. Give him time."

"Go back to your Charms essay," he grumbled at her, knocking his head back against Draco's door. "I will sit out here all night. You promised to help me with my Potions homework and I'm going to fail without you. It's your duty."

"You're a bloody whiner, Potter," Pansy snickered from the table and he glared at her.

"She's right," Draco's vaguely irritated voice came at the same time as his door opened. Harry, who had been leaning against it, fell back with a yelp, his head landing on one of Draco's feet. One perfect eyebrow rose at him, unimpressed with his idiocy, and Harry gave him a weak smile. "You're whiny as hell."

"You've been ignoring me."

"Did you ever think I have my own work to do, Harry?" Draco sighed, leaning down to help him up.

"Did you ever think that you're not actually taking any classes right now?"

Draco rolled his eyes, pushing Harry toward the table and sitting him next to Pansy. "I asked a couple teachers for some make-up work." He paused, then added in a softer tone, "I've been… worrying, a bit. Over how behind I'll be when I'm back to normal."

"You're Draco Malfoy," Harry snorted, like it explained everything. "You'll have a couple months made up in a couple days. You're brilliant."

Draco clearly couldn't help the wry smile that curled his lips upward. "Your faith is astounding. I don't much fancy those couple of days of exhaustion, however. You know as well as I do that I would get no sleep while making sure I was caught up." Harry pouted, looking up at him.

"But you're funny when you're exhausted. You mutter to yourself about how much you hate everyone around you and then you fall asleep on anyone within reach."

Draco's cheeks turned pink. "Watch your mouth," he muttered, then chuckled. Harry cocked his head in confusion. "You're just so different than how I thought you'd be. You're pouty and immature and you're kind of a pathetic slob when you're not in savior mode." His smile widens. "I think I like you best like this."

"None of that sounded like a compliment," Harry told him, but laughed anyways as Draco sat down next to him and pulled Harry's potions book toward him.

"It was, sort of," Pansy said, her smile telling Harry that she understood exactly what Draco meant. It made Harry feel guilty and happy all at once, and he wasn't sure he liked the feeling. Happy, because Draco had feelings for him and Harry returned them and he wasn't sure he'd ever cared for someone as much as he cared for Draco. Guilty both because of Pansy's feelings for him, likely still in the process of being overcome, and because of something he'd just realized.

Draco had cared for him for  _years_ , without even really knowing him. He'd been through so much. They had saved each other's lives, but Harry had barely even treated him with tolerance. They'd become friends, yes, but it didn't make up for the years that Draco had thought more of him when Harry hadn't even thought to share the sentiment.

"You're a normal bloke, Harry," Pansy was continuing. "Not everyone knows it, but you really are a genuinely good man, without being conceited or just some hero figure."

"Exactly," Draco agreed. "That's exactly what it is." He paused, and then leaned against Harry, resting his head on his shoulder again. "I used to think you were a hero. As a boy, that's all I thought. I had those silly dreams of saving the world with you and going on adventures. Then we go to school together and I convinced myself that you were just some arrogant fame monster." He shook his head, looking exasperated with himself. "It's a little strange that I can look at you now and see… just Harry."

That's what convinced him that they really got it. "That's what I've been saying all along, you know. I'm just Harry. And you're just Draco," he added. "Not a death eater, not a Malfoy. Just Draco."

"I think I can deal with being just Draco," the blonde agreed, smiling against his shoulder. He sat up, giving Harry one more smile, and opened the book to begin on Harry's homework. Neither noticed when Pansy smiled at the picture they made and stood. They returned the kisses pressed to their cheeks on autopilot, and didn't look up when the portrait to their room opened and closed.

* * *

"Can I ask you a question, Harry?" Draco said that night, drying his hair with a towel. "Even if it seems a little silly?"

Harry looked over from where he was polishing the handle on his broom, smiling at him. "Of course, though I can't imagine you having any "silly" questions. You, the paragon of pureblood integrity and –" He laughed as one of the bed pillows came flying at his head.

"I was just thinking, while I was in the shower –"

"Dangerous pastime, that…"

"Oh, hush you," Draco scolded, but he was clearly fighting a grin. "I was thinking about what will happen when I'm back to normal." Harry glanced at him out of the corner of his eye.

"Something tells me that you think about that quite a bit."

Draco bit his lip and nodded. "I do. I just… things don't have to change, do they?" He curled up on the couch next to Harry. "I keep thinking over and over that things will be so different. I'll have to move back into Slytherin and you into Gryffindor. I won't be able to see you all the time. You'll get distant and I'll have to miss you because I won't want to say it. You'll be free from the burden and you won't be stuck with me anymore and…"

Draco was so caught up in his worries that he didn't notice Harry setting aside his broom and care products, turning to face him properly. Draco only quieted when Harry took his face in his hands, meeting his eyes. He held his gaze, making sure that Draco's attention was focused solely on him.

"Draco," he sighed. "You get me, but you don't really get  _us_ , do you?"

Draco blinked.

"You are my best friend," Harry said firmly. "I love Hermione and Ron, obviously, but you have become my best friend. I love you, too, brat. I'm not just going to forget about you. If you want to stay here, in our rooms, then I'll fight to be able to. If you want to hide in my trunk in Gryffindor tower if they don't let us stay here, then you can. You're the closest person in the world to me now."

Draco bit his lip again, kneading the pink skin there lightly with his teeth. "Okay."

"Okay?"

"Yeah," Draco said with a breath. "Yeah, all right." Then he smiled, golden hair and pale skin shining. He leaned in and pressed a kiss to Harry's cheek, close to the corner of his mouth, and got up, retreating to his bedroom.

Harry watched him go and let out a sigh. "He'll be the death of me," he said at last, under his breath. Then he smiled, and finished polishing the handle of his broom.

 


	15. The Foreboding Sense of Impending Happiness

"I don't feel any different," Draco murmured. Harry was ransacking his trunk, hoping to find a sock to match the one he had on, and paused with his head still half inside at the sound of his voice. "I thought I would – since I'm of age now."

Harry sat down on the floor, leaving an arm on the edge of the trunk. "I thought I would, too, when I reached the age of majority." His smile was a little sad. "I didn't feel much different at all. Just the same sad, scared kid I'd always been, about to go off to do Merlin knows what – whatever I had to." He closed his trunk, gesturing that Draco take a seat. He did, his smile small and bitter.

"I'm taller at least," Draco said after a moment and Harry snorted. "I just hoped I'd suddenly have some big revelation. That suddenly the gap between me and your Draco would shorten, that this missing link would just pop up."

Harry smiled tightly, leaning up to rub Draco's arm comfortingly. "You are my Draco – you're just a bit younger, is all. You should even remember the most of the war now."

He nodded. "Most of it, yes." Then, he paused, and grinned impishly. "I remember saving your arse at the Manor." Harry nodded, another smile twitching his lips upward, but Draco's grin slipped. "And I remember you saving mine." He sighed. "We're messes, Harry."

"When haven't we been?" he countered with a raised eyebrow. "I've been a mess as long as I can remember and I think I'm doing all right. Savior of the wizarding world and all that."

"You're doing more than all right," Draco agreed. His fingers scratched lightly at Harry's scalp, running through his hair. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but you really do live up to the 'savior' hype." At Harry's grimace, his lips curved upwards. "I know you don't like it – well, now I do; I remember being a prick about that before – but it's true. I don't know what I would have done had you not been there during the war."

"I used to worry about that," Harry told him after a long pause, leaning back against Draco's hand, closing his eyes in contentment, as if to offset the uncomfortable topic. "That people would hate me if I failed – if I would even live if I failed. I knew I wouldn't, of course, but I didn't like the idea of people hating the  _thought_ of me any more than I like them loving the thought of me. I didn't like thinking about what people's lives would be life if I hadn't killed Voldemort."

"He was a monster," Draco said quietly. "He would have killed us all eventually. I wouldn't doubt it for a moment."

"He was a monster," Harry agreed. "But I also can't  _not_ remember the scared, lonely little boy he had been."

Draco perked up, his eyebrows drawing together in confusion. "What are you talking about?"

Harry glanced upward, meeting Draco's grey eyes. "I've told you this before, but I suppose you don't remember. You know what a Pensieve is?" He received a nod. "Dumbledore had memories stocked up, plenty of them, and a fair few were about Voldemort – or rather, Tom Riddle. That was his name, before he rose to power."

Draco nodded again. "I knew that. I kind of assumed he'd just been an evil brat the whole time, though."

Harry's smile was wry. "I know. I sort of did, too. He was, in a way, but more than that. I saw a little bit of myself in him. He'd grown up without either of his parents and his caretakers didn't like him. They were afraid of him. The other children despised him. Hogwarts was his first home, like it was mine."

"That's… sad," Draco said at last, for once his silver tongue failing him. "To think what he became…"

"I'm not saying he could have been good," Harry added after a moment of thought. "He would always have been a dark wizard. Hell, he probably would have become Voldemort whether he'd had a happy childhood or not. It's more not knowing whether he would have or not."

"I understand," Draco told him, biting his lower lip. "And I agree. He would have become what he did either way. You said yourself you went through something similar, didn't you? And you're his polar opposite."

"Not quite so different," Harry muttered, then winced when Draco gave him a questioning glance. "I've always thought there were more similarities between us that anyone ever wanted to admit. We look at things in similar ways – I just see the world as a lighter place than he did."

"He was a powerful man, Harry," Draco sighed. "So are you. What is done with that power is what makes the difference. Not all of his traits were evil no more than yours are. I like to think you had the good and not the bad."

"Well," Harry said after a moment, a small smile twitching his lips. "I do have his stubbornness."

Draco rolled his eyes, pulling his hand from Harry's hair and smacking him lightly on the back of the head. "Nice, make light of the situation. Here I was trying to comfort you."

Harry grinned. "You did it ever so well, love."

"Get off me," Draco grumbled, but his eyes were bright once more. "We have to go to class."

"I have to go to class," he answered, but Draco merely popped his cheek once, dancing out of the way with a laugh when Harry swatted at him. "All right, come on then, if you're coming. Don't be a twat."

He could hear Draco's laughter as he ran to his room to grab his shoes and bag, coming back out with that wide smile on his face. Harry loved that smile; he couldn't ever remember seeing it directed at him until earlier that year and yet, it was probably the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

_Dear Merlin,_ he thought to himself as he let Draco tug him from the room, half-listening to his chatter about Transfiguration.  _I am so gone on this boy._

* * *

"You're a right twat, you know that?"

Ron was grumbling to himself at Harry's table. He'd been planning to come visit for dinner for at least a month, and now that he was here, he was upset because two minutes into his visit, he'd been told off for his runaway mouth.

"I wouldn't have to be if you would make an effort to get along with Draco," Harry said in reply, giving him a meaningful glance as he took a bite of chicken. "You act like he's some sort of demon."

"Maybe he is, who knows?" Ron snapped, but colored when Harry raised one eyebrow, unimpressed. "Sorry. You can't just expect me to give up years of resentment for someone I see maybe once every half a year."

"Who says that it's going to be that rare?" Harry said, exasperated. "I plan on keeping him around as long as I can. Who knows –" Try as he might, his voice still sounded somewhat mocking. "- we may even grow old and die together. He's important to me, Ron, and so are you. Can't you just make an attempt? I'm not asking you to become best friends."

"Good," Ron said frankly and they both held their expressions for only a moment before chuckling.

Harry was about to respond when Draco walked in, looking peevish and uncomfortable. Clearly, Ron set him on edge. He was still older than Draco was and more imposing. He would always have more muscle and he was a trainee Auror – the exact people Draco's upbringing had taught him to avoid. "Harry," he greeted him, jaw muscles clearly tense. "Weasley."

"Good to see you," Ron muttered, but Harry rolled his eyes.

Draco looked a little confused, the second greeting throwing him off balance – the first being the beginning a five-minute snark war between the two that wouldn't have ended had Harry not dragged Ron upstairs. "Of course. Well, Harry, I was just going to retire –"

"You are going to sit at this table and eat with us," Harry stopped him with a raised eyebrow – a trick he had in fact learned from the blonde himself. "You couldn't have eaten down in the Great Hall. You were barely there for five minutes."

Draco sighed, sitting next to Harry and subtly moving his chair closer to the darker haired wizard. "So," Ron said loudly, his blue gaze pinned on Draco. Harry sighed, reaching over to place a hand on Draco's knee. Draco was clearly tense and his eyes flickered to Harry in thanks for a moment. "You're almost back to normal, yeah?"

Draco nodded after a moment's hesitation then squared his shoulders, clearly reminding himself that he was a Malfoy and he was not going to act like a scared child around Ron, older trainee Auror or not. "Next week, actually. It's difficult to wait patiently."

"Because patience has ever been a virtue of yours," Harry teased and Draco rolled his eyes heavenward, coming back down to smack Harry's shoulder lightly.

Ron swallowed a bit of meat, then grinned crookedly. "Don't go acting like it's yours either, Harry. You used to get impatient during a two second wait." Harry gave his friend a huge smile, letting himself hope that maybe the awkwardness between them could be dissipated.

"He's still impatient," Draco snorted before Harry could reply, earning himself a pout. "Dreadfully so."

"I guess you haven't changed that much, have you?" Ron asked, looking a little like he wasn't sure what to say.

"I wouldn't say that," Harry shrugged. "The only reason I'm not a total mess is because of him. I would be a lot different now if it weren't for the accident." When both Draco and Ron looked like question marks, Harry shrugged a little self-consciously. "I was on a bit of a downward spiral when it happened. I'm not saying I would have pulled a Voldemort or anything – I was just moodier. I snapped at  _Neville_ , can you believe it?"

"You've been through a lot," Draco said softly, watching out of the corner of his eye as Ron nodded in agreement.

"He's right," the redhead said shortly. "I'm actually sort of surprised you're doing as well as you are. You get this lost look sometimes – I'm sure you don't even realize it – but it kind of reminds me of myself whenever Hermione isn't around." He paused; then, shamefaced, "I reckon I haven't been the same lately, either."

"A little rougher 'round the edges," Harry agreed with a humorless chuckle.

It was silent for a moment.

"I'm sorry," Ron said abruptly. "I've been a right arse, haven't I?" Harry deigned not to answer that one, but as always, Draco did it for him instead.

"Yeah, a bit of one," he said in a flat tone, but it was softer than it would have been before the apology. "I normally wouldn't say anything, seeing as I'm perfectly aware how much abhor me – but it's been bothering Harry. I don't much like anything that upsets him."

"Aren't you a doll," Harry teased, and the blonde rolled his eyes.

"You really care about him, don't you?" Ron said after a moment, narrowing his eyes at Draco critically. "Like, you're not yanking his chain or anything like that?"

"What would be the point of that?" Draco said coolly. "To cause pain to someone who has done nothing but help me? I know you think I'm devil incarnate, but as it turns out, I'm not pointlessly cruel."

"You like him?" Ron asked, an eyebrow raised skeptically.

"I'm… fond of him." His words were stilted, as if he were unsure of how they would be received. Harry was sure they would be; Ron was a bit of a wild card when it came to Draco. He couldn't blame his friend for being hesitant.

"Are you two together?" Ron sighed, seemingly put out by the very idea, yet resigned to it.

Harry and Draco shared glances.

"Not… as such," Harry said, just as Draco said, "It's complicated."

"How is it complicated?" Ron asked, incredulous, looking at them like they were both daft. "I mean, honestly, with the way you two dance around each other, I'm surprised you're not engaged. Just look at yourselves!" They did, Draco a little startled by the hand on his knee, and the dark hair wrapped idly around one of his long fingers. They traded glances.

"It's complicated," they repeated in unison, and Ron groaned.

"I'm not actually sure how to react to this situation," he admitted, rubbing his face with one hand. "On one hand, I don't want you anywhere near my best mate, but on the other, I want you two to stop being so blind and just get it together." He froze. "Is this how you felt with me and Herm?"

"We're not even friends, and I mostly wanted to bash your heads together," Draco agreed with a grimace.

"Right," Ron said slowly, then stood. "I'm going to go floo back to our apartment, then. Before I actually bash your heads together."

"Ron," Harry sighed. "You don't have to go."

Ron raised an eyebrow. "Mate, I  _really_ do. And it seems like you two need to have a little chat. So call me when the awkward levels have lowered a bit."

"Man up, Weasley," Harry whined after him. "I'm not impressed with your auror training if this situation is too much for you!" Ron didn't reply, and the room went silent, barring the sounds of Ron gathering his things, then vague hissing from Nigen as the portrait hole was opened and closed.

"That was unexpected," Harry said at last, his hand still paused on Draco's knee. The hand that had been twirling Harry's hair was also frozen.

"To say the least," Draco murmured, giving Harry sideways glances, gauging his reaction. "He's not wrong, you know."

Harry side-glanced him in return, neither of them wanting to meet the other's eyes. "About?"

"Bashing our heads together." Draco's cheeks were a light shade of pink, almost unnoticeable to anyone who wasn't looking closely. "I was being difficult, when it came up last week."

"You're always difficult," Harry said automatically, quieting when Draco glared. "But – are you really…?"

"Why not?" Draco said at last. "The idea's terrifying at sixteen, but – I know I said nothing's changed now that I'm seventeen but  _something_ has because I can look at this rationally. Harry, what's wrong with this?" He gestured between the two of them.

"Nothing," he answered, eyebrows furrowed. "Of course there's nothing wrong with it." But Draco could see the panic in his eyes – he'd been bold, last week, but this was different. Draco was serious, serious about making this thing between them more than mutual pining. This was serious, and Harry felt a pang of anxiety shoot up his spine, closing his throat and making his heart pound. "But, Draco –"

"I used to think it was so complicated – I was the death eater's son, you were the golden boy – but it's not! It's so simple, Harry. You and me," he interrupted. Draco's eyes were huge, pleading. "It could be that simple."

"Draco, you need think about this," he said, voice tight. "Just – you're back, next week, completely back to normal, just give it some thought –"

"I have thought about it," Draco told him firmly, though his voice shook, just the slightest bit. "I've thought about it all the time for these past several weeks. How could I not? What possible down side could there be to this?"

"Societal backlash? Your family? What if you get back to normal and you get angry with me for taking advantage of you?" he asked, biting his lip when Draco glared. He let in a sharp gasp when Draco knocked his hand away to settle himself above Harry, straddling his lap.

"I don't even remember being  _friends_ , but I couldn't ever think for a moment you're taking advantage of me," he said lowly, each word biting. He cupped Harry's face. "Harry, you saved me when I never could have asked even that kindness. You are the only person who spoke on my behalf during the war – you are the reason my family is not in Azkaban! How could you possibly take advantage, after everything you've done for me?"

"I just did what any decent person would do," Harry said, biting down on his lower lip. He looked so much like a scared child and Draco almost laughed, because a week before, it had been him looking so much like Harry did now.

"Then there are very few decent people in the world," Draco told him gently, then leaned down, waiting for a moment and searching Harry's eyes, before pressing a kiss gently to Harry's red-bitten lower lip.

"Draco." He sounded wrecked.

"Shh," Draco whispered. "Just give me this. You can argue with me later."

He didn't give him a chance to say anything else; Draco just kissed him softly, his thumbs digging into Harry's cheekbones gently, fingertips buried in dark, messy hair.

"Your family," Harry whispered against Draco's sweet-tasting mouth, the faint hint of peppermint.

"Non-issue," Draco whispered back, his breath fogging Harry's glasses slightly. He pressed another kiss to Harry's lips. "You saved us from rotting in Azkaban, Harry – I don't think you quite understand what that means. No one in our circles would do that for us, or us for them. You… you have shown us a great mercy." Another kiss. "We did not deserve your words at our trials, but you gave them anyway. My parents, with a little more persuasion, could become so far gone on you that they would be offering to plan our wedding." There was a hint of humor in his eyes.

"You're positive about this," Harry said, needing the confirmation. Fallen silent, Draco nodded.

Harry's mouth captured Draco's with a sort of desperate intensity. His hands, which had been gripping the armrests of his chair, came up to grip at Draco's waist, fingers splayed and hungrily grasping at whatever bit of the blonde they could reach.

Draco, to his credit, didn't even startle; he just leaned in and pressed their mouths together tighter, licking his way into Harry's with no reservations.

The world spun as Draco rocked in his lap, over his growing erection, hand coming down to attempt to hike Harry's shirt up.

"No," Harry gasped, pulling away to move Draco's hand. "Not until you're back to eighteen."

"Why?" Draco's breath was so hot, warm puffs against his swollen lips.

"You know why," Harry answered, giving him one last soft kiss. "I won't do anything more with you, not like this, until I know for sure."

Draco examined his expression before sighing. "All right. Just – sleep with me tonight. I need to know you're right there, Harry. I need that."

"I was going to suggest it anyway," Harry agreed, lips twisting into a smile.

* * *

As they curled together that night, Draco pressed a kiss to his collarbone, sweet and innocent, and Harry touched his head, stroking his hair gently.

"I love you," Draco murmured after Harry's breathing had evened out in the pattern of sleep. He smiled, a tiny little thing. Harry didn't reply, but in his sleep, he smiled into Draco's forehead.


	16. Love Without Tears

When Harry woke the morning Draco was to be eighteen, he woke alone.

He didn’t move for a good long while – five minutes or so that felt like an eternity. Only his hand, gripping slightly at cooled sheets, gave any hint that he was awake. He felt heavy, exhausted – hurt. He let out a deep, shaky sigh, and forced himself upright, glancing around the empty room with narrowed eyes and furrowed eyebrows. There was a fire in the fireplace, but other than that, it seemed cold.

Then, he heard the _snick_ of Draco’s door opening, and the blonde stepped out, fussing with his school uniform. Harry gaped as he smoothed out a few wrinkles before finally looking up, giving Harry a small smile. He looked _warm_ – open and happy and at home. He didn’t look lost or brooding, just finally at peace.

“We have class in a bit, Harry, and you aren’t even out of bed?” he scolded lightly, that light in his eyes never dimming. He came around the bed, pressing a quick kiss to the corner of Harry’s mouth. “Come on, golden boy, it wouldn’t do to be late.”

Still a little dumbstruck at this display of normality, Harry reached over to grab his wand from his nightstand, casting a mumbled _tempus._ “It’s half seven. I still have another twenty to get ready and get to class,” Harry said at last.

Draco gave him a cheeky grin. “Yes, but you are escorting me to my first class in honor of my first day back, aren’t you? So get your lazy arse out of bed and get dressed. I let you sleep in past breakfast, but you aren’t missing classes today.”

Harry took in the sight in front of him. Draco, sitting lightly on the edge of the bed, was a vision. His hair was perfect and his eyes were brighter than he’d seen them in a good long while, pink lips curled upwards into an almost-smirk. Harry grinned, a weight lifting from his shoulders. “Kiss good morning, then?”

Draco rolled his eyes, but just as Harry was hoping, leaned in to press their mouths together, lips moving lazily before pulling away with a wrinkle of the nose. “Go brush your teeth, morning breath,” he teased, stroking back a wayward lock of hair. “Go on, hurry!”

Harry let himself be rushed through his morning routine, grinning like an idiot – insanely happy that Draco was real and there, kissing him and just being _with_ him.

He took a moment in the bathroom to give himself a good look over, biting his lip to keep from smiling too widely. He _looked_ happy. His hair was a mess and he looked like he hadn’t slept in a week but he finally looked happy.

“Are you done appraising yourself?” Draco asked after a moment of standing behind him. Harry grinned at his image in the mirror, and Draco, after a beat, grinned back.

“Yeah.” He turned around, leaning in for a soft kiss. “Let’s go to class, yeah?”

Draco rolled his eyes but kissed back, pulling back with a raised eyebrow. He handed over Harry’s bag and the brunette took it. He slung the back over a shoulder and held his hand out for Draco to take. Draco paused for a moment, examining him, but Harry just nodded towards his outstretched hand. The blonde took it, lacing his warm fingers through Harry’s, and let the taller of them – only by an inch, and only after a much-needed growth spurt – lead them out of the room.

Of course, they stepped out of the portrait and _in_ to someone, who let out a soft “oof!” and staggered back a bit. Harry didn’t know the kid personally – he recognized him as one of the fifth year Ravenclaws, but Draco stepped forward to make sure he didn’t fall, asking him if he was okay.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks, Draco,” the kid groaned, rubbing his forehead where Harry’s chin had hit. Harry rubbed his own jaw, pouting as Draco apologized again – only for the kid to blink and gape at him. “Wait a second! You’re back to normal – congratulations, Draco!”

Draco laughed and Harry let himself be distracted by the sound. “Your powers of observation need a bit of work, Lance. That took too long for you to notice.”

The kid – Lance – blushed and Harry raised an eyebrow at him. “Yeah, I suppose. Are you going to pick up tutoring lessons with me again, then? I don’t understand anything in ancient runes unless you explain it,” he asked, reaching up to run one of his hands through dark hair. His expression was eager, like a puppy.

“Probably – heaven knows you need it,” Draco agreed, teasing lightly, offering the kid a grin to show he was only joking. “I have to get to class, though, so I’ll talk to you later, all right? And for the love of Merlin, maybe if you studied once and a while –“

Harry pulled Draco away with a snort of laughter, leaving the kid behind them to stammer out an argument. “I think he has a bit of a crush on you,” Harry murmured to him, the humour clear in his voice. Draco turned pink and slapped his shoulder lightly before letting his hand slip down to lace with Harry’s again. “It’s kind of cute, really.” A quick glance back proved it to him – Lance was still standing there, his eyes locked on their entwined hands and a fierce blush turning his cheeks crimson.

“Well, too bad for him I’m otherwise engaged,” Draco replied, a little smirk twitching his lips. He knocked their shoulders together. “Isn’t that right, golden boy?”

Harry grinned at him impishly and Draco snorted, pulling him along. “I’m really glad you’re feeling so well,” he told him softly a few moments later. “I haven’t seen you this happy in a while. I kind of expected you to be a bit… more bitter. And since when are you tutoring younger students? I remember a time when you would have sneered at them  and told them to go away.”

“I don’t know,” Draco answered. “I just can’t help but feel that things are going right – for _once_. It’s been so long since things have really been okay. Even before the accident, it was more _getting_ therethan actually _being_ there. Maybe I needed a couple months of no responsibility.” He paused. “And for your information, I’m not actually a gargoyle that hates small children or whatever it is you have in your head. I’ll have you know I’m very friendly with the younger students. Mostly.”

“ _Now_ ,” Harry emphasized with a roll of his eyes. “You used to be a pompous twit, especially to the lower years. You’ve grown up a lot.”

“I don’t know whether to be offended or proud of myself,” Draco answered, making them both laugh. “Come on, you prat; take me to class.”

* * *

 

The entire castle seemed to be in a good mood. Pansy couldn’t stop grinning, hanging off of her best friend, and even Blaise seemed a little handsier than usual. He kept ruffling Draco’s hair and patting his shoulder, and even punched Harry lightly in the shoulder at one point. Ginny couldn’t seem to get enough of seeing them together and Luna had asked them if they would please kiss at least once – three different times.

And Harry? He could barely believe that this was really happening.

“You look like you’re contemplating the meaning of life,” Draco murmured into his ear during lunch, his lips brushing warm skin. Harry shivered, glaring at him because he was knew that Draco was perfectly aware of what he was doing.

Of course, he promptly melted once meeting happy grey eyes. “This is all just a bit surreal,” he replied, kissing Draco softly and ignoring Luna and Ginny’s giggles. When he caught Draco’s eye roll, he pulled back and bopped him lightly on the nose. “Don’t act like I’m being all soppy, you brat.”

“Your brat,” Draco said in response, giving him that cheeky grin.

Harry nodded, then said – without thinking – “I love you.”

Everyone at the table seemed to freeze, then in tandem – “ _Aww._ ” Genuine from Luna, Ginny, and Neville and predictably mocking from Blaise and Pansy. Harry flushed, but Draco just rolled his eyes and said pointedly, “I love you, too. Also, unless you want me to start teasing the other two couples at this table, I suggest all of you shut your traps.”

“Two other couples?” Harry asked, confused, until Draco raised an eyebrow at Ginny and Blaise. Who, now that he was paying attention, both had arms strained towards each other – holding hands under the table. “Oh, you two suck. When did you get properly together and didn’t tell me?”

They exchanged glances, moving a bit closer now that they’d been caught. “A month or two ago?” Ginny said innocently and Blaise nodded in solemn agreement at her side.

“I am ashamed of you for not telling me, Blaise Zabini,” Draco scolded, but took a huge bite of his salad, ruining the stern effect. “I mean, really. Seven years of friendship.”

Blaise just rolled his eyes. “At any point previous you would have disowned me and rejected all seven years of friendship.”

“That is not true!” Draco disagreed, the only tell that he was playing around being the small twitch of his lips. “The last couple years, maybe. But only those.”

Blaise laughed loudly. “You’re a little shit, Draco. But somehow I still consider you my best friend.” He rolled his eyes.

“I should hope so,” Draco sniffed, feigning his old air of superiority and managing to hold onto it for about ten seconds before dissolving into giggles. “Seriously, though, no more acting as if Harry and I are some darling royal couple. We’ll get enough of that from the media.”

“What do you mean?” Harry asked, confused. “I would think they would throw a fit over me dating a – well, Slytherin.”

Instead of being offended, as the sudden tenseness among their group gave away their fear of, Draco sighed. “Harry, I was a kid for most of it and even I saw all of the Prophet articles about how cute it was that you were taking care of me. It wasn’t just Hogwarts that swooned over our relationship – and that was before we were even dating!”

He blinked. “Really?”

The entire table metaphorically threw up their hands in defeat. “Yes, Harry,” Draco said patiently. “We’re kind of the Wizarding World’s IT couple.”

Cue more blinking. “Oh.”

The entire table stared at him until Draco shooed their gazes away. “We have more pressing issues, you know. Maybe the fact that we’re leaving Hogwarts soon? That our NEWTS are coming up? That Ginny is currently feeling Blaise up under the table?”

Ginny went scarlet and Blaise – who was already scarlet – slapped her hand away, sending a death glare Draco’s way. “Prick,” he ground out through clenched teeth and Draco laughed delightedly.

* * *

 

That night, after Harry and Draco were settled into bed – the last night before they had to put up a fight to keep their private rooms, Harry was sure – he looked over at Draco, who was just in the process of turning into Harry for their nightly cuddles.

“I meant it, you know,” he said at length. “When I said I loved you.”

“Funnily,” Draco snorted with another eye roll. “I had a sneaking suspicion that’s what you were talking about. And I meant it, too, when I said I loved you.”

“Good.” Harry was so awkward, and suddenly everyone present (him, Draco, and a certain chocolate coloured teddy bear) was becoming aware of that fact.

“Oh, come here,” Draco snapped, exasperated, and pulled his boyfriend into his arms. It was a little strange still, for Harry to be cuddled up to someone almost the same height as him, though still slender. Someone his age. He felt a pang of loss for the sweet-faced child Draco had been and at the same time, a sharp rush of relief that he had his Draco back again. “Honestly. You’d think I bite.”

“Nah,” Harry said, nuzzling into Draco’s throat. “Just having a hard time believing you’re real.”

“You keep saying that,” Draco said, pulling back to examine him. After a beat, he pulled further away, ignoring Harry’s protests, and pushed the brunette onto his back. Long legs slid to either side of his hips, a very pert ass pressing against Harry’s lower stomach – just close enough to roll back over his crotch if he so desired. Harry flushed, but Draco looked unimpressed, more preoccupied with proving his point. “Am I real, Harry?”

“Pretty sure,” Harry replied, flushing a bit darker. Draco’s raised eyebrow told him that wasn’t good enough for him and Harry really wished that Draco wouldn’t scoot back enough to feel the semi he was sporting.

Of course, that was Draco’s cue to do just that, a smug smirk curling his lips upward. He rocked once over the length of Harry’s cock and Harry’s hands flew to his hips, gripping tightly. “Am I real, Harry?” he breathed, leaning down to whisper his words into Harry’s neck before laying a kiss to the spot where Harry’s pulse jumped.

“Don’t tease me, you prick,” he huffed, but Draco just laughed softly, pressing another kiss to his throat.

“Not teasing,” he murmured. “I’m eighteen again, and fully consenting. You want proof that I’m real? Take your proof.” Harry searched his eyes, finding only surety and warmth. He slid his hands from Draco’s hips up his back, under his shirt, his fingertips seeking to map the smooth skin, put it to memory.

“I love you.” Whispered words, pressed into the pale column of Draco’s throat. Long fingers card through his hair.

“I love you as well,” Draco murmured back, pulling Harry’s hands away. He sat on Harry’s crotch – the movement somehow not erotic, in spite of the erection pushing into the blonde’s backside. Draco undid the buttons of his shirt and pulled it off, dropping it gently to the floor. He gestured for Harry to do the same and he pulled his t-shirt off, meeting Draco for a kiss the minute the cotton was over his head.

Harry’s hands smoothed over his skin, slipping under his pajama bottoms and slipping them off, Draco helping by maneuvering just enough to kick them off, leaving him nude, skin gleaming in the candlelight. “You’re so beautiful,” Harry told him honestly, smiling crookedly when Draco just gave him a soft look.

Draco lifted himself enough for Harry to pull his boxers off and sat himself back down on Harry’s lower stomach.

“How far do you want this to go?” Draco asked him, his fingers tracing patterns over Harry’s chest.

“As far as you want to take it,” he answered, moving one hand from Draco’s leg to his hand, moving it up so Harry could press kisses to his palm. “I’m sure about you, Draco. Never been more sure about anything.”

He nodded, reaching over to the nightstand and pulling lube out of the drawer. He grinned when Harry stared at it in confusion. “This room has always changed to meet our needs,” Draco told him by way of answer and Harry laughed, joined by Draco after a moment.

Eventually, though, they calmed down and Draco pressed the lube into Harry’s palm. There were no more words – what was there to say? He slicked three of his fingers and pressed the first to Draco’s entrance, his other hand dancing over Draco’s skin.

Draco was beautifully responsive – beautiful in everything, of course, but Harry was so fond of the soft noises he made as Harry pressed his fingers into his body. At first, a wince, a soft whimper of discomfort. Harry’s free hand cupped Draco’s neck and pulled him down for a kiss, working another finger in to the tight heat.

“I love this, I love _you_ ,” Harry groaned. “Merlin. Did you think about this when we were in school? All of this time wasted. I could have been _worshipping_ you this entire time.”

Draco keened and let Harry roll them over, his legs draped uselessly over Harry’s thighs, feet digging into his shins. “I should have said something – should have let you,” Draco managed, his cheeks a dark pink, his skin flush with a light sheen of sweat. “I wasted all that time being ashamed of myself, didn’t I?”

“You have nothing to be ashamed of,” Harry murmured, pulling his fingers free and wrapping his hand around Draco’s cock instead. “I look at you, and I see the most beautiful creature in the world. Do you understand that? You are everything.”

“Are you always this… _romantic_?” Draco asked him with a raised eyebrow, but he couldn’t hold onto he expression long, not after Harry – with a whispered protection spell – pressed into him, everything slick and hot. He shuddered.

“Not with just anyone, no,” Harry told him, breathing heavily, rolling his hips. “I’ve never met anyone that I cared about a fraction of as much as I care about you. I fooled around a bit with Viktor, you know, and I had a boyfriend somewhere in there, for a few weeks. He didn’t last very long; didn’t like hiding from the press. No one has ever been to me what you are.”

“Are you going to hide _me_ from the press?” Draco asked, sucking in a breath when Harry thrust particularly hard as if in punishment for even asking.

“Not what I said,” he answered, nipping at Draco’s jaw. “They already know about us – isn’t that what you said? I couldn’t if I tried, and can’t imagine ever wanting to. I could never hide you – be anything less than proud to be with you.   _I love you_.”

Draco slid a hand to his nape, murmuring _I know_ against his lips like a prayer, then a moaned _Harry_.

The rest of the world dissolved around them.

* * *

 

“I’m glad things turned out this way.”

Harry managed a half-smile and Pansy smiled back. “I’m happy,” he said by way of answer. “I love him.”

“We _know_ ,” Pansy snorted, covering her soft smile with a smirk. She took a sip of her butterbeer as they waited for the rest of their friends, including Draco, to meet them at their corner in the Three Broomsticks. “You two say it so much you’d think it’s going out of style. Honestly. I never would have pegged Draco to ever be part of a gooey relationship like the one you guys have.”

“But it works,” Harry told her with a grin.

She rolled her eyes. “I’ve gathered.” She softened her expression. “I’m really happy for you, though. You know me; I’m not good at emotions. But he is, surprisingly. It’s great that you’re just as open with him as he is with you. I always suspected that he had a crush on you, but I never thought it would work out as well as it is.”

“And you’re not still…?” he asked, wincing at his phrasing. She shook her head.

“Do I still think I would have been happy, that we would have worked?” she asked with a raised eyebrow. “Yeah. But I don’t think you and I would have been as happy as you are with him. I’m not _in love_ with you, Potter. I might have been, but I’m not now. You’re my friend, and he’s my best friend. You come first.” She ruffled his hair and he rolled his eyes, pulling away.

“I care about you, too, Pans,” he told her calmly. “You’re one of my best friends – you know that, right?”

“Would I be here if I wasn’t?” she asked him, clearly rhetorical. He ignored her snark and nudged her with his shoulder. She looked at him, probably to sass him, but instead glanced over his shoulder and grinned. “Loverboy’s here.”

Predictably, Harry turned immediately to flash Draco a bright grin. Draco slid into the seat next to him and gave him a kiss, smiling affectionately. “Hello, love – Pansy, darling, you look lovely!”

She smoothed down her new dress. “Thanks, Drake. Now, where are our other idiots?” She turned her attention from them to said idiots, all coming in and waving cheerfully at them.

“Everything okay?” Draco murmured in Harry’s ear. “It looked a bit tense over here a minute ago.”

“Draco,” Harry said calmly, pressing their foreheads together. “Everything is _perfect_.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only the epilogue left! This, however, shouldn't take a month to update. This story is pretty much over. :)


	17. In Venere Veritas - Alternately, The Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternately: no, the chapter title has nothing to do with the chapter (if you bother to translate it from Latin) and if one of you gets the band reference I've been giving you with EVERY CHAPTER TITLE (hinthinthint) I will jump for joy and maybe cry a little.

Lucius Abraxas Malfoy was a frightening man.

He was perfectly aware of that fact, and relished it more than he probably should. Narcissa was constantly telling him off for trying to scare people off on purpose (especially if they were pitying or scavenging or just trying to be nice), but he was also a stubborn man. He loved his wife – really, he did – but, well, he was who he was.

He wasn't going to apologize for being the reason the Boy-Who-Lived was currently sitting petrified and ashen across from him at the table.

Draco looked somewhere between horrified and exasperated, a flush high on his cheeks. He gave his father a subtle hiss of  _'Father! Was that necessary?'_

Lucius raised an eyebrow, a silent  _yes_. Draco huffed, rolling his eyes (when did his son get so disrespectful? If it wasn't his son, who was adorable in everything he did, Lucius might have been offended), and reached over to entwine his fingers with Potter's.

"Don't worry about him," Draco murmured. "He's just being difficult, you know that."

"He just threatened to castrate me," Harry hissed back at him. "And smiled!"

Even Draco couldn't help but smile a little. "It's just my father, Harry. Difficult, yes, but you'll win him over. We didn't fly to France just to sit here and wait for you to faint from fright."

"I'm not going to faint," Harry muttered, but managed a small smile in return. "I mean that," he added when Lucius snorted, a near perfect copy of his son doing the same thing.

The strange thing was, though, that Draco looked  _happy_. Vaguely annoyed that his father was trying to give his boyfriend a heart attack, but happy nonetheless. There was a pink flush on his cheeks and a ring on his finger. His smile was a million watts and his skin was the slightest bit tanned from his vacation-turned-engagement party. He looked well-fed and taken care of.

Lucius wouldn't have supported this even months before. When he'd put Draco in Potter's hands after the accident at Hogwarts, he'd even been wary of doing that, half-tempted to go and pull Draco from school entirely until he was returned to his proper age. Only Narcissa's quiet suggestion that it might be good for him stopped him from grabbing the nearest portkey to Malfoy Manor. When the Prophet (still delivered faithfully to their owl perch every evening) had started announcing Harry's rise to public popularity once more due to his small charge, and then of their relationship, he'd been nearly livid.

Yet, when Draco and turned up with his boyfriend ( _fiancé_ , Narcissa kept reminding him), Lucius had been struck by how grown-up his son looked. One half of a beautiful couple with broad shoulders, silken hair, and an infectious smile. He hadn't seen Draco look that happy since he was much younger. Then, he catalogued the man attached to the hand Draco was holding. Same wild hair, same square jaw – skin tanner from being out in the sun, but otherwise mostly the same. Taller, perhaps, and more confident.

 _And blindingly in love with his son_. He could tell from the moment he caught sight of the boy; he was a love-sick puppy and Draco let him carry on without reprimand. He seemed not to notice, only ever giving attention to it to give the boy a quick kiss and a flash of the same adoring eyes Potter gave him.

"Father, what are you thinking about?" Draco was asking him and he cleared his mind of all thoughts and smiled, maybe too warmly for company, he thought, as he watched Harry Potter look at him in alarm.

"Nothing, Draco. Eat your dinner."

His son gave him a roll of the eyes and smiled, glancing over to share a look with his mother (smiling affectionately at him as she was wont to do in his presence) then with the Potter boy. When he and his fiancé kept grinning at each other, Lucius rolled his own eyes heavenward and patted his wife's hand when she shot him a glare.

His family was alive and happy. He had no complaints.


End file.
